


Finding The Write Words

by probablynothumanish



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Bullying, College AU, Cute, Dead Parent, Depression, Flashbacks, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Modern AU, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Poly, Sanders Sides - Freeform, Self Harm Thoughts, Sensory Overload, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Writer Virgil, alternative universe, animal shelter patton, artist roman, car crash, don't worry he doesn't actually do it, its my bois, just thinks about it, logan croft - Freeform, patton hart - Freeform, polysides - Freeform, possible adhd roman if i wrote it properly, remus montague, rich boy roman, roman montague, slowburn, soulmate, soulmate trope, thoughts of self harm, touch starved virgil, virgil sinclair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 44,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablynothumanish/pseuds/probablynothumanish
Summary: Whatever happens on your skin - writing, bruises, tattoos, cuts - appears on the skin of your soulmate.Virgil never liked the idea of soulmates in general. It seemed too easy, too good to be true. He had planned on ignoring his forever, but when he finds out he has not one but three, it gets a little bit harder to ignore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know it's been done before, but I wanted to do it.

Virgil was ten the first time he saw the marks. He was sitting at the back of the classroom, staring out the window, when he felt a tingling warmth in his arm. This freaked him out - of course it did. How could it not? - and he jumped in his seat, his eyes turning suddenly to the arm. He watched with slightly parted lips as a patch of pink paint appeared on his skin.  
When was the last time he painted?  
Did he forget to wash off after art class?  
Was he imagining it?  
He shook his head, tugging his sweater sleeve over his arm, and turned his attention to the front of the class. He didn’t want anyone else to see the mark on his arm. He would ask his grandma about it when he got home.  
The tingling warmth persisted, however, for another half hour before it ended abruptly, and he found himself freezing without it.  
He pulled his arms further into the sleeves of his sweater, bunching his shoulders until his hands disappeared into the soft, warm fabric.  
School went slower than usual that day, which was really saying something. It normally dragged on at a sluggish pace anyways. Virgil had a hard enough time concentrating on what the teacher was saying without the memory of the mark fresh in his mind. When he got home, he ran off the school bus and right into his grandma's arms. She was one of the few parents who actually bothered to wait at the bus stop; most other parents didn’t want to have to stand out in the cold, so they would either wait to drive up until the bus left or they would simply have their kids walk home.  
“How was school today, Virgil, sweetie?” his grandma cooed in a voice that felt like honey. It washed all his worries away, and for a moment, he forgot about the mark.  
“It was okay.”  
“Did you learn anything today?”  
He thought, tapping his chin in a move he had seen on television a few times. It made his grandma laugh. He wasn’t sure why. “We read a poem today called a haiku and then Ms Williams had us write our own.”  
“Oh, that’s very cool. What did you write about?”  
They arrived home, and Virgil hung up his backpack and coat on the hook by the door. “Paint.”  
“Paint?”  
He took a deep breath, the memory of the mark coming back to him. He nodded. “Gramma, when I was at school, something happened.” She looked worried, her brows pulling together as she sat on the couch. Virgil sat beside her and pressed on. “I was just sitting in class, and my arm got all warm and tingly, like it was asleep, and I looked at it, and--”  
He pulled up the sleeve of his sweater and looked down at his arm. It was blank. He froze in confusion, pulling up the other sleeve. Maybe he had mixed up what arm it was one. But no, this one was blank, too.  
“I… I swear, there was paint here. It was pink paint, and it was a big splotch, and--”  
“Ohhh,” his grandma nodded in understanding. “Virgil, sweetie, it’s okay. That’s just your soulmate. I guess now is as good a time as any to give you that talk.” She laughed, a sweet sound that brushed his worries away. “You know how I told you not to draw on your skin?”  
He nodded.  
“Well, that’s because everything that happens on your skin happens on theirs, too. Every time you fall and skin your knees, every time you get marker or paint on your hands, every time you get a bruise. And it’s there for as long as it’s on their skin. Since the paint is gone off your arm, that just means your soulmate washed it off. No big deal. Her art class probably just ended is all.”  
"What’s a soulmate?”  
“It’s one person in the whole world that you’re meant to be with. Or multiple people. Some people have multiple soulmates.”  
“But how?” His brows pulled together. “I don’t get it. Someone meant to be with me?”  
“Yes, sweetie. You see, the universe - God - saw that person, or those people, and thought that they would be a perfect fit for you, so He paired you.”  
It seemed too good to be true, and he had learned in his short years on this earth that if something seemed too good to be true, it most likely was. After his parents died in a car accident a few tears ago, leaving him to be raised by his grandma, he had stopped believing in the fairy tales that claimed happily ever after. That was all they were. Fairy tales.  
“Was… was grandpa your soulmate?”  
Sadness flitted over her face at the mention of him, and Virgil inwardly cursed himself for bringing him up. He hadn’t done so since shortly after the funeral. It was better - easier - to just not talk about it. It caused less pain.  
But she nodded, the sadness dissolving as a forced smile reached her lips.  
“Then how come God took him away from us if he thought you two would be perfect together?”  
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, dabbing at her eyes before they had the chance to fall. “I don’t know, Virgil. But I’m sure it was for a good reason.”  
He didn’t believe it.  
He didn’t believe that any of it could be real.  
Soulmates - the idea that there was someone who was supposed to be perfect for you. It seemed insane. The fantasies of a child. There was no way that she was going to be perfect for him. There was no way. People had differences, and they argued, and they fought.  
He didn’t want anything to do with the person who was supposedly “perfect” for him.  
He didn’t want to chance the pain his grandma went through when his grandpa died.  
He didn’t want to get his heart broken the way she did.  
He didn’t want a soulmate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of angst here, and Virgil has an anxiety attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited Chapter One a tiny bit, so you may want to read over that real quick. Sorry, guys.

By the time he was in high school, everyone around him knew about their soulmates. They would spend every free moment of their time at school talking about the marks on their skin, their soulmates, how they were going to meet them over spring break.  
Virgil almost felt left out. Everyone else in school had their soulmates talking to them, meeting them, loving them. But at the same time, he knew that he wanted nothing to do with his, so maybe it was better that she didn’t write to him.  
So when he felt the strange, warm tingling in his arms again, he only looked out of instinct. He most certainly didn’t actually want anything to do with the person writing to him.   
That would be insane.  
"Hello."  
The word scrawled across his skin in red glittery ink, looping in an interesting and dramatic script, and he debated for a moment grabbing the pen off his desk and writing back to her.  
He looked away from his arm, pulling down his sleeve to cover the writing.  
He ignored the warm tingly feeling on his skin.  
The other students thought he was strange. While they were talking about their upcoming meetings with their soulmates, Virgil spent his time buried in books. When they asked him about his soulmate, he simply shrugged, claiming he must not have one.   
They didn’t ask anymore.  
He found solace in his books and writings, plunging himself into a world of his own making and worlds created by others. Anything was better than the world he lived in now.   
This world was too loud.   
Too bright.   
Too crowded.  
Too much.  
He ignored the warm tingly feeling on his skin.  
He sat at the back of the room in every class, as far away from everyone as he possibly could get, one eye on the door prepared for an escape.   
He ignored the warm tingly feeling on his skin.  
He tried talking to his grandma about his feelings of crushing overwhelmedness every time he was in a crowded room. She tried her best to understand, she really did, but the world wasn’t the same for her as it was for him. She didn’t live her life in constant fear of the world around her the way he did.   
She did, however, get him in to see a therapist.  
It took him a long time to speak at all during the appointments, and when he finally did, he didn’t tell the therapist about the warm tingly feeling on his skin. He claimed he didn’t have a soulmate, and when his grandma told the therapist otherwise, he panicked. He told him that he simply hadn’t heard from her. That his soulmate hadn’t written at all.  
He suggested Virgil try writing to her.   
Maybe they’re shy.  
He scoffed at the idea, remembering the words he had received months ago, how the warm tingling had persisted nearly nonstop since then.  
He had ignored it.  
Virgil quickly steered away from any conversation about soulmates with the therapist - Dr Picani - and he didn’t press. They talked instead about his life at home, his schoolwork, his hobbies… and when he grew more comfortable, more trusting, Dr Picani delved into the deeper topics. The accident. Grandpa’s cancer. The loss. The sadness. The crushing weight of overwhelmedness that swallowed him on a daily basis.  
Anxiety, he called it.  
There was a word for it.   
That should have made him feel better.   
Dr Picani encouraged Virgil to find solace in whatever ways he could, even if that way was burying himself in his reading and writing. He encouraged him to keep a journal, and when Virgil expressed a disdain towards writing down his feelings, he insisted that he didn’t have to.  
“You can write about anything, Virgil. You can write a story, a place, a poem, you can write about your day at school, your friends, you--”  
“I don’t have friends,” Virgil mumbled, interrupting him. Dr Picani paused, his eyebrows rising slightly on his forehead, and Virgil cursed himself. He shrank down into the hoodie that had all but become a part of him now, hunching his shoulders and wishing he could merge with the chair he sat on.  
“And why not?” He kept his voice calm and gentle, always coaxing Virgil out of his worries. It was something only he and Virgil’s grandma could do, and it confused him to the ends of the earth. How was it possible for one person’s voice to strip away the unbearable weight that pressed on him daily?  
“I… I don’t really see a point. They’re all leaving in a couple months for college.”  
“You’re not? We haven’t really touched on your plans for the future.”  
His nose wrinkled at the idea of spending four more years surrounded by people in loud rooms. “I don’t think I would be a good fit for college. Too many people.”  
“That’s perfectly fine, Virgil. Do you know what you want to be after school?”  
Dead, came the immediate thought. He had had the thought before, but never lingered on it for long. He didn’t really want to be dead. Did he?  
“I dunno,” he mumbled instead with a shrug his grandma could have called dramatic.  
“Well, we’ve talking about your hobbies. You like writing, correct?”  
He nodded, apprehension in his eyes.  
“Why not be an author?”  
He snorted. “Yeah, right.”  
Fuck, that sounded rude.  
He wanted to disappear into his hoodie.  
But Dr Picani simply chuckled. “It’s not as wild a concept as it used to be, Virgil. Ten, twenty years ago, it would have taken a degree in English, a literary agent, an editor, and two years with a publisher. Now, though, you can do it all yourself if you want to. Most people - most therapists - would insist you try to go to college to acclimate yourself to being around more people,” he must have seen the panic in my eyes because he smiled kindly, putting me at ease, “but I understand that that’s not for you. There are online degrees, of course, if you choose to go that route, but they’re not really necessary for a career in writing. You can write, edit, and publish your own books without involving other people at all - unless you choose to have beta readers to look it over for you.”  
He thought a moment before shrugging. It wasn’t an altogether unappealing idea. He did love writing, but he wasn’t so sure he was even good enough to make any money with it.   
He told Dr Picani he would think about it.  
When Virgil got home, his grandma greeted him with a simple “go wash up for dinner, sweetie.” He nodded his assent and made his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall.   
He didn’t want to look in the mirror. If he did, he was worried he would see some sign of her. Some sign of his soulmate. Like when she got a black eye two years ago and the bruise stained his skin for well over a week, at times covered by too-dark makeup that only made it look worse. Or when she got some kind of scratch on her cheek and the red line didn’t fade for days. Or the small red ovals that marked the sides of his nose from where her glasses rested.  
He washed up with the lights off.  
He always washed up with the lights off.   
He rolled up his hoodie sleeves, and even in the dark, he could see the writing. The scribbles and doodles all up his arms.   
He finished washing up and he pushed his sleeves back down to cover them.  
And he ignored the warm tingly feeling on his skin.  
Why hadn’t she given up yet? She had been writing to him nearly nonstop for months, and he hadn’t said anything back. Why didn’t she just assume she didn’t have a soulmate? It would be easier that way. If he didn’t exist at all. Or at least, if she thought he didn’t.  
As time went by, it got easier and easier to ignore the warm tingly feeling on his skin.  
Virgil spent the entirety of his spring break and the rest of his senior year juggling his time between work at the local Target and writing his first novel. He didn’t overly mind the job at Target. Yes, it was customer service, and he had to be around people, and put on a fake fucking smile, but he worked in stock, so at least it wasn’t so bad. Better than being a cashier or working in fast food, anyways.  
He really wasn’t looking forward to graduation, but his grandma insisted, claiming she wanted pictures. And he couldn’t argue with that, now, could he? So he sucked it up, traded out his hoodie for a button-up that covered as much skin as possible, shrugged on that garish red robe, and suffered through it.  
He fidgeted through the whole thing, obviously, his fingers toying with the sleeves of the robe until the fabric rubbed his fingertips raw. He bounced his leg with a fervor that had his neighbors glaring at him until he stopped.  
He didn’t.  
They were too close.  
Too many.  
Too loud.  
The room was too hot.  
He couldn’t breathe.  
Why couldn’t he breathe?  
Work, lungs, dammit. Work!  
He heard his name being called, and suddenly all eyes were on him.   
It was too much.  
Too quiet.  
He could hear his heart racing in his ears.  
Could everyone else hear it?  
They had to have been able to hear it. There was no other noise in the room.   
No one spoke.  
No one moved.  
Virgil jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over with a crash, and ran.  
He crashed through the doors, slamming them open, and ran to the only solace he could think of.   
The restroom.  
He barged into the room that was entirely too bright, thankful at least that there was no one else there. There was a lock on the door that he quickly turned, and he tore off the robe.   
He couldn’t breathe.  
It was too hot.  
Too bright.  
He tore off his shirt, the buttons clattering to all corners of the bathroom, and he crumpled to the floor. The tile was cool even through his pants, and he welcomed it, allowing his heart rate to slow and his lungs to kick back into gear again.  
It burned when he was finally able to breathe again.  
It stung.  
And when it finally stopped, he felt empty. Cold. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but as he came back to reality, he could hear his grandma on the other side of the door, knocking and trying to coax him out.   
Virgil moved to button up his shirt and when he found it was without any buttons, he looked down.  
It was the wrong move.  
The bathroom was brightly lit. He could see every word, every doodle, every scribble created by his soulmate, scrawled across his chest and stomach. She must have run out of room on her arms.  
Segments of poems and quick sketches in looping red glittery ink.   
Cute motivational quotes and a rough estimation of cat emojis drawn in skittering blue glittery ink.  
Facts written in precise black ink.  
Three different styles of writing.  
Three different colors.  
Three… soulmates?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see a little bit of Roman here, and his personality and how he interacts with his soulmates.

Roman Montague was the first to greet his soulmate. He was terrified of doing so, knowing that this person was supposed to be his destined partner for the rest of his life.   
He wondered what they were like. What gender, what name, what age, even. Where on earth they were. If they liked art, or saw it as a fruitless endeavor like his dad. If they spoke any other languages.  
Everyone in his school was talking with their soulmates already, eagerly scribbling down a note or a thought on their hand or forearm in the middle of class and squeaking in happiness when they received a reply. Why hadn’t his soulmate greeted him already? Maybe they wanted nothing to do with him. He knew they existed. He had seen the small red ovals on the sides of his nose from their glasses.   
They wore glasses.   
He bet they were absolutely adorable in them. He had always liked glasses.   
And he had seen the red line of a cat scratch on his cheek a few months ago.   
They liked cats.   
He himself was allergic, but he was sure that was something they could compromise on. Maybe get one of those hairless cats.  
He shook his head away from his thoughts, paying attention once more to the art teacher. He was simply telling them that it was a free class that day and setting out boxes of pens and markers and stacks of papers. Roman loved free classes. Sure, he was always excited for the chance to review his work with his peers and being given some sort of instruction that he could run with, but there was something about the ability to just let loose and create a true work of art that sparked a passion in him.   
He was the first one to get to the table of supplies, as usual. Nobody was as excited for this class as he was.   
Picking out a few glittery gel pens, a number 2 pencil, and a yellow piece of construction paper, he carried his supplies back to his table. He opened the red pen, prepared to start his masterpiece, and paused.  
The girl across the table was doodling on her hand, the drawing being contributed to by her soulmate until they had a beautiful mosaic of blue and green flowers and diamonds.   
The boy across the room was simply writing something on his arm, not bothering to draw anything. To be honest, Roman wasn’t so sure he had seen him draw anything in this class. Most of his “artworks” that he turned in for review consisted of blocked shapes and bubble letters.   
Roman stared down at his arm, and he twirled the pen in his hand.   
He had to say something. One of them had to say something, and his soulmate hadn’t said anything so far. He supposed he might as well be the one to break the silence, but what would he even say? What kind of greeting was right for someone who was supposed to be his perfect match for life?   
“Hello.”  
It was simple enough. The looping letters stared back at him, and for a long moment, he worried that they wouldn’t write back. That they would ignore him.   
But then his skin got a warm, tingly feeling over it, and his eyes widened as the words scritched on his skin.  
“Hiya!”  
“Salutations.”  
Two greetings. In two different colors. Light blue gel pen and black ink. He had two soulmates.   
His cheeks ached with the grin that stretched over his mouth, and he stared excitedly at his arm. At the words.   
“There’s three of us?” The light blue words appeared after only a moment’s hesitation.   
“It’s not entirely uncommon. My moms told me that a lot of people have multiple soulmates.” The black ink appeared next.  
Roman’s hands were shaking in his excitement, and his mind raced with what he would say next.   
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”   
“My moms didn’t want me writing on my skin. Something about the ink being dangerous. I’ve found skin-safe ink, however, and I was just waiting until I got home so as to not disturb you during school,” blank ink said.  
“I was worried about what to say,” blue ink said.   
Roman never got around to drawing his picture. He spent the entirety of class - and much of the rest of the day - writing to his soulmates. Whereas they were all too nervous to share their names, they had eventually decided there was no harm in sharing a few letters. Blank ink was Lo. They were smart, Roman had quickly found out, taking idle notes during their math class that Roman had no chance of deciphering. And blue ink was Pat. They were so sweet, encouraging him when he got frustrated in class and doodling cats and hearts when they were listening to their teachers.   
They were both adorable. Every time a new message appeared from them, Roman jumped to look at it as quickly as possible. It got a few snickers from his classmates and a chastisement from a teacher or two for not paying attention, but he hardly ever did anyways. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to pay attention. He really did, but it was so hard. The teachers all spoke in monotone droning voices that faded out of existence after only a few moments.   
His grades weren’t the best in the world, but he supposed they were better than some. His parents weren’t too happy with the fact that he was barely passing, but it wasn’t his fault! He couldn’t pay attention for the life of him.   
He was in the middle of painting something outside his parents’ beach house - so he wouldn’t get any paint on the floors inside - when the mail came at the end of spring break. He was coated in paint, splatters of rainbow colors on his cheek and along his forearms, his fingertips smears with purple when his brother, Remus, ran out of the house. He rushed up behind Roman, fencing foil in one hand and an envelope in the other.   
“Hey, shitstain! Mom told me to give you this.” He threw the envelope towards him, and with a sigh of frustration, Roman bent down to pick it up from the floor, staining the envelope with the purple paint. It was from Crofters University, one he had applied to a couple months ago for the art program.  
“Did you really need to throw it? Why couldn’t you have handed it to me like a normal person?”  
“Why can’t you participate in an orgy like a normal person?”  
Roman blinked in surprise. He thought he had gotten used to his brother’s outbursts, but apparently, he was wrong. “N… normal… wh… Normal people don’t do that, Remus!”  
But he was already gone, skipping back into the house and swinging his foil around like he didn’t care if he hit someone with it. He probably didn’t, to be honest. With a roll of his eyes, Roman grabbed his paint rag from the table beside him and wiped off his fingers before tearing open the envelope.  
Mr. Roman Montague,  
We are pleased to inform you….  
The rest of the letter blurred in his excitement, and he squealed, bouncing on his feet. His hands shook as he reached for his satchel on the table and dug out his red gel pen.   
“I got into college!” He wrote quickly in large looping letters - larger than normal, anyways - on his forearm.  
The writing from the last couple months had been faded and drawn over again and again. His arms were almost constantly covered completely with ink, and even just looking down at them filled his stomach with a fluttering that made him smile stupidly for much longer than normal.   
“OMG Ro, that’s great!” Pat was the first to respond. Lo spent most evenings tutoring in order to earn some extra cash for when they started school in the fall, so they most likely wouldn’t see the message for another couple hours. “What school did you get into?”  
He paused, the pen hovering over his skin. Was it too much information? Too soon? He knew that a lot of people his age had already met their soulmate in person and most likely were skyping and had long distance relationships with them, but they had known theirs for years. He had only just met his a couple months ago.  
At the same time, though, they were his soulmates. And they had been nothing but trustworthy and kind in the months he had known him. And it wasn’t like they knew his name if things did happen to go south. How many people with R-O as the first letters of their name could be at Crofters University?  
“Crofters” he wrote shakily, hesitantly, pausing after every loop of the ink.  
Pat didn’t reply.  
Roman stared at his arm, chewing his bottom lip and tapping his fingers together for a long time.  
Pat didn’t reply.  
Roman went back to his painting, doing his very best to focus. The scenery was ruined now, though, the sun beginning its descent over the horizon, the wind rolling the waves on the ocean. There was no way he was going to be able to paint the scenery he had been looking at only moments ago. It didn’t exist anymore.  
Pat didn’t reply.  
He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, trying his best to recall the beautiful blend of colors and the gentle lapping waves that were long gone now. He couldn’t just abandon the artwork in front of him. It had been such a long time since he finished a painting. His room was lined with half-finished paintings like wallpaper.  
He just wanted to finish one.  
Chewing on his lip once more, nibbling at the skin until it bled, Roman squeezed out some more paints onto his palette and grabbed hold of his brush. He sank into his painting, adjusting the already laid-out colors to match the world around him now. It wasn’t too hard a process, to tell the truth - it was simply adding some touches of white in the waves and shades of red and orange to the sky - but it was still frustrating.   
Time passed slowly, and Roman immersed himself in the painting for a long time until it eventually was finished. The canvas in front of him was finally covered in the scene in front of him, the beautiful periwinkle and aquamarine swirling in the ocean that stretched from the sandy grassy yard of his family’s beach house, the myriad of blues, reds, deep purples, and oranges of the sky above it all.   
His hands were coated in paint, blurring together into a disgusting mixture of greyish muck. Making a face of disgust, Roman wiped off his hands on his paint rag the best he could before moving to the spigot on the side of the house and rinsing off his hands.   
He stared at the spot where he had written “Crofters” on his arm, debating whether or not he should just wash it off. Pat hadn’t replied, and he didn’t want to linger on it if he had somehow said the wrong thing. But Lo hadn’t seen the conversation yet, and he didn’t want to leave them out. The three of them had made a point in the last few months to not wash off the things they had written or drawn on purpose. They didn’t want to forget anything they had said to each other, and the longer the words lasted, the better.   
So he simply washed off the paint, and turned off the spigot.   
And his arm started the warm tingling feeling that old him one of his soulmates was writing to him. They were home from tutoring.  
“Congratulations on getting accepted to Crofters University, Ro! I, too, got accepted there for pre-law with a minor in astronomy. What about you, Pat?”  
“Crofters is in my town.” Their words came in hesitant pauses.   
Roman stared down at his arm in disbelief. He was going to college with one of his soulmates and the other would be mere minutes away.  
What were the chances of that?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil finally looks at his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but I decided not to linger on it. Sorry in advance if it's not too good.

“You don’t have to move out, Virgil, sweetie.”  
“I know, gran, but it’s time.”  
She made a noise of sadness and pulled him close in a hug. He stiffened in her grasp, unused to the contact, but didn’t pull away. It was nice, even if it was unwanted. The warmth of her enveloping him and holding him close. He wanted to live in her warmth forever, to never leave the home he had loved for the last eleven years of his life, but he knew that it was time. It was a part of growing up.   
Sure, he could stay here for a couple more years, save up some more money, but he knew that if he did, it was only a matter of time before he got too used to the comfort. And he would never leave. He would never grow as a person, would never grow up.  
He found a studio apartment near the college a couple towns over. It wasn’t ideal - he knew it was going to be pretty loud, and heavy with foot traffic with al the students, but it was cheap housing, and he was offered a job in stock that paid more than target did at a warehouse in the area. At least he would be able to save up until he found some sort of job in writing.   
He would have to find a new therapist, and that was something he really wasn’t looking forward to, but there was no way he was going to have the money for gas to drive the hour to Dr Picani’s office every week. Hell, there was no way he was going to have the money to get a car. His grandma had had to drive him and all his belongings to his apartment.  
The warm tingly feeling in his arms had been even more insistent the last few weeks, but he had refused to look. Three soulmates was so much worse than one.   
Three soulmates would break him apart three times as much as one.   
Three soulmates would ruin him.  
In the first month of the summer, Virgil spent a majority of his time either at work, writing, or doing his very best to make his rundown cramped apartment more like home. He didn’t get much sleep. He never had, truth be told, but he got even less now that he was on his own.   
His grandma had always insisted on him heading to bed at a reasonable time - staying awake until he did so.   
The worst part of the house wasn’t the leaky faucet that dripped nonstop, or the strange stains in the carpet that no amount of soap and scrubbing could get rid of, or even the constant thumping from the neighbors above him. It was the closeness of it all. There were so many people around him.   
He didn’t feel safe.  
What if someone busted into the apartment, breaking down the door? He suspected it would only take one solid kick and the flimsy lock on it wouldn’t be able to hold anymore.   
He couldn’t turn out the lights.   
There could be someone there.   
There were so many creaks and groans in this apartment, even when he was completely silent. The first few days on his own he tried to just go on as if everything was normal, but as soon as the lights were out, he was plagued by a constant worry that there was someone standing right beside him and he just couldn’t see them in the dark.   
He stood in the bathroom doorway, towel in one hand a fresh pair of clothes in the other. In the month he had lived here, he had done everything to avoid looking at himself.   
To avoid looking at the ink on nearly every inch of his skin.   
It had been a month of showering only when absolutely necessary, and either avoiding looking down or closing his eyes altogether. A month of brushing his teeth in the kitchen sink so he didn’t have to look in the mirror above the one in the bathroom.  
He didn’t even know what he looked like anymore.   
His grandma told him he looked a lot like his dad, but it had been so long since he saw him, he didn’t remember what he looked like. Sure, he had a vague idea, but it was only blurry memories altered by time that he refused to look back into for fear of recalling the accident.  
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring at the mirror just inside the bathroom. At the angle he looked at it in, he could see the shower on the other side of the room. Curiosity had been tugging at the corners of his mind for so long.  
It had been years since he had seen himself.   
How much had changed in that time?  
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes tight and stepped into the bathroom. He turned to face the mirror and set the towel and clothes on top of the sink, resting his hands on the sides of the cool porcelain.   
This was insane. Abso-fucking-lutely insane.  
He was going crazy, that was the only excuse.  
The only reason he could think of as to why he was even considering looking at his reflection.  
He opened his eyes.  
The stranger who stared back at him looked sick. There were deep purple circles underneath dark eyes. The small red ovals on the sides of his nose stood out in sharp contrast to his pale skin. Too pale.  
When had he gotten so pale?  
There was a smear of yellow paint on his forehead, nearly hidden behind the overgrown black bangs.   
He glanced down at his hands. Hands that gripped the edge of the sink like it was a lifeline. His fingers were stained yellow as well, the color melding together with blues and greens in a beautiful kaleidoscopic wonder.   
Looking back to the mirror, he stared himself in the eyes as he shrugged off his hoodie and the old worn tee-shirt underneath. He could already see at the edges of the mirror the different colors of ink on his skin.  
What was he doing?  
What was wrong with him?  
He wanted nothing to do with them.  
These girls who hadn’t stopped drawing on their own skin for half a year.   
He didn’t want to see what they had written.  
He didn’t want to know what they had to say.  
He looked anyways.  
Virgil tore his eyes from the mirror and looked down at his arms. They were covered in ink. He had figured they would be when he saw the writing on his chest during the graduation, but it wasn’t until he saw them now that he really understood the extent of their writings.   
Nearly every inch of his left arm was covered in eloquently written red and black ink and scritched blue. And his right arm was the inverse. Blue ink was perfectly neat, though looping and effeminate, and the red and black ink were more scritched in.   
Blue ink was a leftie.   
Virgil wasn’t sure why he smiled slightly at that.  
Why he thought that was cute.  
It didn’t take him long into reading the words on his skin to find out their names. Or at least the names they were using with each other.   
Black ink - Lo - wrote mainly about her tutoring and her love of the stars. Red ink - Ro - wrote about how excited she was for starting at Crofter’s University in a couple months and paintings she was working on. And blue ink - Pat - talked about how excited she was to meet the others when they moved to her town to go to college and about her new job at the animal shelter.   
There was so much life in all three of them.  
Virgil could feel it in the hurried writing of Lo when she talked about star clusters and space travel.   
He could feel it in the way Pat’s letters ran together and slanted when she talked about an adorable animal at the shelter.   
He could feel it in the splatters and smudges of paint Ro left on her skin, outlining them in marker and creating a beautiful image from it.   
Virgil would never be able to create anything as beautiful as Ro’s drawings. He would never be able to get as excited about something as Lo and Pat did about stars and animals. If he had lost his mind so much as to even think about the possibility of writing to them, he had certainly come crashing back to reality again. And the fall hurt. It ached in every part of him, pounding with his heartbeat until it pulsed his entire body. His hands shook and his eyes teared up, his lungs clenching in his chest.   
He shut his eyes as tightly as possible, turning away from the words on his skin.  
He didn’t want to see them.  
He didn’t want to feel the warm tingly feeling on his skin as more of them appeared.  
He wanted it to stop.  
Why wouldn’t it stop?  
Please… stop…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has nightmares and scribbles on his leg.

The first thing Virgil remembered about that fateful day eleven years ago was the noise.  
His mom’s scream as his dad slammed on the brakes.   
The honking of the horn that echoed in his nightmares for years.   
The crushing of the glass - was it their windows or the truck’s?  
What came next in his memories was the lights. The sun was bright that day.   
He remembered thinking, while he drifted in and out of consciousness in the wreckage of his parents’ car, about the irony of the sunny day. The sun was supposed to be a happy thing. Kids drew it with a smile, possibly some sunglasses, always in the sky above a happy, beautiful scene.   
Virgil didn’t like sunny days.   
Sunny days brought heat, exhaustion, and pain.   
“Mom! Dad!” He remembered screaming, shouting the words over and over until his throat was raw. He didn’t even know for certain that he was screaming, though, to be honest. He didn’t hear anything.  
Nothing but the ringing in his ears and the sirens of the ambulance from so far away as it came rushing to their aid.   
His dad was slumped over the steering wheel, a smear of blood on the wheel and glass glittering around him.   
He couldn’t see his mom.  
“It’s okay, Virgil, love,” she gasped out. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”  
She sounded out of breath, her words coming in short gasps.   
He didn’t see her again.  
Virgil sat up, awake in bed in his apartment, the lamp on his bedside table illuminating much of the apartment.He could feel his heart racing in his chest, and he closed his eyes tightly for a moment, taking a slow deep breath until his heart slowed down again. When he grabbed his phone from beside his pillow, the screen switched on to tell him the time.   
6 A.M.   
Fuck.  
He had only just managed to fall asleep two hours ago. Well, there was no way he was going to be able to fall back asleep . Not with the memory fresh in his mind. Not with the sound of the sirens echoing in his ears.   
He clamped his eyes shut again and buried his face in his hands, trying to dispel the memories. Trying to block out the sights, sounds, and smells of that day. His fingers fisted into his hair, pulling it at the roots, and his knees pulled up to his chest, curling him in on himself. He opened his eyes after a long minute and the world blurred. He released his hair and swiped the back of his hand at his eyes.  
When had he started crying?  
Virgil wiped his eyes on his shirt, taking another deep breath to calm himself down. If any of his soulmates were awake, he didn’t want his nose to get red as it did whenever he let himself cry. He didn’t want them to see. He didn’t want them to know he existed.   
They were better off thinking it was just the three of them.   
They were so happy without him. He would just ruin it.   
The way he had ruined his parents.   
“Mom, please,” he begged, bouncing on his feet with the energy of the small child he was. “Please, please, please. It’s the last day it’s in theaters. I wanna see it really badly.”  
She smiled the sweet smile that made him feel warm inside and touched her hand to his cheek. “We’ll go after supper, love.”  
“Dear, are you sure that’s a good idea?” his dad asked from the kitchen as he prepared supper. “The roads are a bit icy.”  
Virgil jutted his bottom lip out in a pout, looking up at his mom with his best puppy dog eyes. She laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s been good, and he did get his grades up.”  
When had he fallen back asleep?   
What time was it?  
Virgil clenched his fists around the blanket over him and took a shaky breath. The ghost of his mom’s touch was still on his cheek, and he lifted his own hand up to it, his fingers gently brushing against his skin.   
He moved his hand away from his cheek and climbed out of bed. He made his way to the kitchen and stared blankly at the fridge, debating whether or not he should try to eat. Deciding against it, he instead grabbed the headphones on the counter and a bottle of water. He sat himself down on the old rickety couch he had found at a yard sale and opened his laptop.   
It had been a gift from his grandma for his birthday. It was the only way he would have been able to have one, considering most of his money before he moved out went towards savings for the down payment on the apartment. But his grandma insisted that he needed a laptop if he wanted to actually work on his writing.   
She was so supportive of him and his writing. He never let her read any of it, though. He hadn’t let anyone read any of his writing apart from the stuff he did as part of assignments in school. He didn’t even know if he was any good. For all he knew, the novel he had been working on for months was absolute trash.   
It probably was.  
As he read through the last page he wrote yesterday, chewing on his thumbnail, the skin on his left arm started tingling. He looked out of instinct.   
“Moving day!” Ro wrote, her words somehow managing to squeeze between the ink that was already there. “I’m so excited to see you guys.”  
“Good morning, Ro,” Lo wrote back. “I won’t be moving to Columbus until next weekend, but I am excited to see you two as well.”  
Columbus.  
What?  
Virgil opened his web browser and did a quick google search of Crofter’s University, the college he remembered Lo and Ro were going to. It was in Columbus, Ohio.  
He had unknowingly moved to the same town his soulmates were going to be living in.   
Virgil felt horrible. He felt like he was some slimy creeper, and he couldn’t stop himself. He spent the day staring at his arms, reading over every word and tracing his finger over every drawing his soulmates had made. They were going to be so close to him, it had been tugging at the corners of his mind for hours.   
They were going to be minutes away from him, and he knew only trivial things about any of them. The more he read, however, the more he learned about them. He learned about Ro’s family - she complained about her twin brother a lot, but she loved her parents. He learned about where Pat worked - a pet shop actually right around the corner from Virgil’s apartment. He learned about Lo’s scholarship and how hard she had worked in order to get it.  
He got no writing done all day, but he did manage to find a website for freelance writers that he sent an inquiry about. If that went well, he would be able to quit the smelly, sweaty stock job he had been stuck in.   
As he waited for an email from the freelance website, Virgil continued reading over the words on his arms. He scribbled with a capped pen over a rip in his jeans. After a few minutes passed, Lo’s writing came up.   
“Pat, is that you?”  
“No…”  
“Ro is driving, isn’t he?”  
“Just got to the apartment. It’s not me either…”  
Virgil looked down at the pen in his hand. Uncapped. His leg was scribbled with purple ink.  
Fuck.  
Fuck.  
Fuckfuckfuck.  
He stood up and rushed to the bathroom, grabbing a wet rag and scrubbing at his leg. His pant leg was soaked, but he didn’t care. He needed to get rid of the marks.   
But it was too late. They had already seen it.  
“Do we” Ro’s writing paused before continuing “have a fourth?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to meet Patton

The labrador puppy tugged at her leash with all her strength. She didn’t have much strength to her, but Patton jogged along behind her, wanting her to get as much exercise as possible. His calves ached, but she wasn’t giving up any time soon.  
Patton walked her around the block a few times, singing softly to himself as he did so, walking until he was sure that she was tired out. It was his favorite part by far of working at the animal shelter: walking the dogs. Sure, there was a lot about the job that he liked, but this was by far his favorite.  
When he brought the puppy back to the shelter, he nearly ran right into a man who looked about his age who stood in the lobby holding a black cat in his arms. The man wore a black hoodie and ripped black skinny jeans, his black hair overgrown and hanging in front of his face. Patton gave him a warm smile, wondering where the front-desk worker, Clara, was.  
“I’ll be right with you, sir. Just let me put Goldie in her kennel.”  
He disappeared into the back and, after putting the puppy in her kennel, he went back to the lobby area. The man jumped at the sound of the door swinging open and shut, his eyes growing wide, and Patton felt his heart clench at the sight of it. He hadn’t meant to frighten the poor man.  
“How can I help you?”  
“I, uh…” His voice cracked as if he hadn’t spoken in days, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “I found this cat on the street, and I didn’t want to leave her out there in this heat.”  
“Oh!” Patton perked up, grinning. “I can take her off your hands, unless you want to just keep her.”  
“Well, I thought maybe she belonged to someone?”  
“Unfortunately in this area, there’s a lot of strays. The people in this neighborhood are good about keeping collars on their cats if they let them outside. Since this little lady doesn’t have a collar on, I think it’s safe to assume she’s just another stray.” He reached over the counter and pet the cat, scratching the side of her neck right below her ear. She purred and leaned her head against his hand.  
He would have to take allergy pills later, but it was worth it to feel that purr. He usually had to take allergy pills before and after work anyways, considering how often he had to go into the cat room.  
“I don’t know if I should keep her… probably not… uh… not a good idea…” The man was hesitant in his words, and Patton soon noticed that he seemed unnerved with him being so close to him. Patton stopped touching the cat and backed up a little bit.  
“You don’t have to,” he chimed, giving the man a smile with all the warmth he could muster. He felt partly to blame for the fact that he was so unnerved and anxious. He had made him wait, and he had invaded his personal space. But the more logical side of him knew that he was being ridiculous. Some people just had anxiety, and that wasn’t his fault. He would just have to be respectful of the man’s space. “I can take her from you if you want. I’ll just have to get you to fill out some paperwork because you brought her in. Kind of strange, if you ask me, but the higher-ups need it.” He shrugged, giving him an apologetic expression.  
The man hesitated, and Patton saw his jaw move in a way that told him he was chewing the insdie of his cheek. Ro had said something about how he did that when he was nervous. For a second, Patton wondered if this was Ro - he had moved to town today, after all, and he knew where he worked. But no… Ro was allergic to cats, and this man didn’t fit what Patton assumed Ro looked like.  
On the other hand, Patton didn’t know what Ro looked like. Ro could very well be this emo anxious boy in front of him. But he doubted it.  
“How long is the paperwork gonna take?”  
“Oh, not long at all.” He grabbed a folder from underneath the desk and took out one of the papers from inside. “If you want to just go ahead and fill out this page here, I can take the little kit back to our vet to be checked out.”  
He grabbed the paper from Patton and held the kitten in his left arm, hugging her against his body, and grabbed a pen from the desk. Patton reached for the kitten and the man paused, the pen right above the paper. He handed the kitten to Patton and set to work on the paper.  
“Do you mind my asking why you didn’t want her?” Patton asked gently, petting the kitten with one finger under her chin. “She seems to like you.”  
“I’m allergic,” he mumbled in response, not looking up from the page. He seemed set on finishing the paperwork and getting out of there as soon as possible.  
But Patton was somewhat thankful that he didn’t look up so he didn’t see his smile at his words. Was this Ro? Only one way to find out.  
“One of my soulmates, Ro, is the same way.”  
The man froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. If Patton hadn’t been staring right at him, watching his face for any recognition, he wouldn’t have seen it. The man scribbled in his name and signature at the bottom of the page and spun around, walking out like the earth would swallow him up if he stayed in there one second longer.  
Patton’s brows pulled together, and he stared after him for a moment before he turned the paper around to look at the information he had written. His name was Virgil Sinclair. It fit him, somehow.  
With a shrug, Patton slipped the page into the filing cabinet and turned to the kitten. “Let’s get you to the doctor. I think I’m gonna call you Luna. What do you say, Luna?”  
The kitten mewed and Patton smiled at her, ignoring the watering in his eyes and the scratchiness that was already arising in his nose, telling him of an incoming sneeze.  
When he got off of work, Patton made his way to his apartment. He had been living on his own for only a couple days, his parents telling him that if he didn’t want to move out, they were going to charge him rent. It was nice, truth be told. The other tenants in the complex were kind, and he had been able to save up enough before moving out to get some nice furniture. It was just a little empty.  
Entirely too quiet.  
Patton hated the silence.  
It was in the silence that he was devoured by the sadness that he fought off with his entire being.  
It was like being plunged into an ice bath, chilling him to the bone and numbing every part of him.  
He turned on the television. An old episode of Parks and Rec that he had seen a million times was playing, but it was certainly better than nothing. It was better than the silence. Shrugging off his coat, he walked into the bathroom and grabbed the allergy pills from the cupboard.  
He took two of them and stared at the medications in his cupboard. He had a plethora of pill bottles for his migraines, and as he stared at them, he couldn’t help but wonder… What it would feel like.  
To just down a bottle of pills and end it all.  
To stop the sadness and the pain.  
To stop the cold.  
Patton reached for one of the bottles, feeling his heart clench in his chest, and he caught a glance at his arm. At the writing of the soulmates he had come to care about so much.  
They would miss him.  
His parents would miss him.  
His soulmates would be ruined.  
He couldn’t put them through that.  
He closed the medicine cabinet and as he did so, another message came in from his soulmates. Red ink. Ro.  
“I’m all unpacked. Do you want to meet today, Pat, or do you want to wait until tomorrow for Lo?”  
“You two don’t have to wait for me,” Lo replied in his beautiful concise writing.  
“Tonight, then?”  
Patton nodded, and as he remembered that they couldn’t see him, he smiled slightly and grabbed the blue gel pen he kept in his pocket. “Meet me at Fairy Ville in an hour.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil dyes his hair. Surprise early short chapter.

“Can you make sure you don’t get any on my skin?” Virgil asked the hairdresser as he sat down in his chair.   
“Absolutely. I’ll be sure to keep it away from the roots. Are we going for a trim today as well, or just a color?”  
“Just the color.”  
The black cape draped around him, covering him, and Virgil avoided his gaze in the mirror. It was already too much just sitting here with this stranger touching him in an echoey room with other strangers listening in on anything he said.   
The stylist wasn’t altogether unattractive, with long pink hair tied in a bun on the back of his head, skinny jeans that hugged his hips, and espressive eyes that Virgil caught himself looking at in the mirror for just too long.   
Pat was a guy.  
One of his soulmates was a guy.  
Possibly more of them.  
Maybe all of them.  
Virgil hadn’t stopped to think in all 18 years of his life the kind of person he was attracted to. He had just brushed aside any thought of attraction, knowing that everyone else had their soulmates and there was no way they would even blink in his direction, and he hadn’t wanted anything to do with his soulmates. He still didn’t.   
He continually told himself that, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.  
After he had accidentally made his presence known that afternoon, he threw on his hoodie, and he hadn’t taken it off since. He refused. He didn’t want to know what they were saying.  
He still couldn’t believe that Pat was a guy. He had had an hour to try to wrap his head around it, and still…   
He was destined to be with a man.  
But looking at the stylist as he sectioned off his hair and clipped it aside, he understood why. Men were so attractive.  
“What color are we wanting to do today?” the stylist asked with a smile.  
“Purple,” he mumbled in response, not wanting his voice to echo through the salon any more than it already did.   
He nodded and disappeared into the back to go get the hair dye. Virgil could feel the tingling on his skin. He wondered what they were saying about him. He wondered if Pat had somehow known that he was their fourth.   
He wondered if the others were male, too.  
By the time he left the salon, Virgil had purple hair, and the tingling in his arms had stopped. He could barely believe it. After months of nonstop writing, they had finally stopped. As he walked home, he glanced around him, making sure there was nobody who would see him. And he lifted up his sleeve.   
It had grown into a sick fascination, his curiosity with the writings. He had to know what they were saying, even if he didn’t want to participate in the conversation. As he read over the messages, another few came in on his left hand this time. Pat was going to meet Ro.   
Virgil was happy for them.   
He told himself that and he swore it was true.  
Virgil was happy that these two were going to be happy together.  
He was happy with Lo was coming to town tomorrow and the three of them would be happy.  
He was happy that they hadn’t said anything about him.   
He was happy that they seemed to have forgotten he existed at all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman meets Patton

Roman chewed his lip as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror on the inside of his closet door. He wanted to look perfect.   
You only get one shot at a first impression, his father had constantly reminded him, and his greeting of just “hello” six months ago had been kind of lame.   
He knew objectively that Pat wouldn’t care what he looked like. In the time he had known them, they had seemed so loving and accepting of everything. But the worry in the back of his mind told him that if he didn’t look absolutely perfect, their relationship would crumble.   
Roman dug through his closet one last time, grabbing a dark red and golden button-up. He held it up in front of himself, made a whining noise as he thought, and finally decided just to go for it and slipped it on over top of the white tee-shirt he wore.   
For the entire drive to the bubble tea shop, he bounced in his seat.   
He was going to be late.  
Traffic was a mess.  
The GPS kept trying to send him down one-way roads, and he got hopelessly lost at least twice.  
But he eventually got there. He pulled into the parking lot, took a deep breath, and got out the red gel pen he had been using to mark his skin for months. Turning the rearview mirror, he drew a small star on his left cheek, right under his eye. So he would be able to find Pat in the shop.  
Okay, now he was insanely nervous. What if they didn’t like him? What if they took one look at him and decided he wasn’t their type? What if they weren’t there?  
Oh God, what if they weren’t there?  
Roman took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and after only another moment of hesitation, he got out of his car.  
Fairy Ville was cute. It seemed fitting that Pat had suggested this place. With its orange walls, multicolored plush chairs, and beautiful cherry blossom painting, Roman felt right at home immediately upon entering.   
He scanned the shop and after only a moment, his eyes landed on a red glittery ink star on a man’s cheek.  
Roman grinned large enough for his cheeks to cramp, and he had to strain himself from running across the shop to him.  
Pat beat him to it.  
He perked up upon seeing him and leapt from his chair, running across the shop faster than Roman had thought possible.  
The air was knocked out of him as Pat slammed into him, wrapping his arms around his waist.  
He was warm.  
And he smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.  
And Roman wanted to breathe him in forever.  
He had known that meeting his soulmates would be a wonderful experience. Something straight out of a fairytale.   
He had expected fireworks and a sweeping kiss and to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.  
Nothing could have prepared him for this.  
Nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart leapt into his throat when Pat smiled up at him, his face barely a breath away from his.  
And nothing could have prepared him for the way his stomach flipped upside down when Pat nervously, hesitantly glanced down at his lips, a silent question in his eyes.  
Roman was only too happy to comply.  
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he reached up to cradle Pat’s face, his thumbs brushing along his jaw like he had seen in countless movies. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his.  
There were the fireworks he had been waiting for.  
In Pat’s kiss.  
In the small noise of happiness he made and the blush he could feel in Pat’s cheeks as well as his own.  
When they pulled apart after what seemed both like an eternity and a fraction of a second, Roman’s head spun. Pat blushed a deep shade of red, ducking his head and squeaking in embarrassment. Roman chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, brushing his blond curls back from his face.   
“Want to order something, Pat?”  
They sat at Fairy Ville for hours, talking about everything under the sun, and when the cashier told them they had to either buy another drink or leave, Roman cleared his throat. “Do you want to hang out at my place?”  
Crap.  
Why would he ask that?  
He had just met him.  
He didn’t even know his real name.  
Pat smiled and nodded. “Sure, why not.”  
Roman’s nerves calmed and he took a deep breath. “Did you drive here?”  
“No, I don’t have a car yet. I’m saving up for one, though. You?”  
He nodded. “My parents bought me a car for my birthday a couple months ago. Kind of a going away present.”  
They exited the shop and Roman led him to the car. Patton stopped in the middle of the parking lot, eyes widening. “Are your parents billionaires?” Roman could tell by his tone of voice that he was joking, but he shifted slightly at the question.   
He wasn’t embarrassed of his parents’ money, but he didn’t like to flaunt it. He had tried to get them to buy him a more sensible, inconspicuous vehicle, but they had insisted on the newest, most expensive, environmentally friendly model they could find. He didn’t mind the environmentally friendly aspect of it, but the rest of it was just a nuisance. “Eh… yeah, they’ve got a bit of money. C’mon.”   
They hung out in Roman’s living room for hours, long after the sun went down. When they ran out of things to talk about, they simply sat in comfortable silence, watching tv. Pat glanced around the living room, his eyes landing on one of Roman’s paintings. One of the few he had finished. The unfinished ones were in the spare bedroom he kept all his art supplies in.   
“Did you make that?”  
“Hm? Oh.” He turned to look where Pat was looking, and he chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not my best, but it’s pretty good.”   
“Pretty good? It’s amazing!”  
“Do you want it?”  
He froze, his mouth gaping open. “Do I….? Can I really have it? I don’t want to take something from you that you worked so hard on.”  
“Pat, I want you to have it. Please. I have tons, and with me starting art school next month, I’ll have even more.”   
He grinned wide and wrapped his arms around Roman, his head pressing against his chest.  
Roman never wanted to get used to this.  
He never wanted to get used to the warmth and smell of Pat, to the feeling of love that poured from Pat into every part of him.   
And he didn’t think he ever would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the two short chapters, guys. I try to keep them between 1k and 2k words per chapter so they're easier to read.   
> You can find me on tumblr @probablynothumanish if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic, all you gotta do is ask!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan meets Patton and Roman.

Logan Croft had a long drive ahead of him. Ohio was a thirty hour drive away, and he really wasn’t looking forward to it. It was going to be incredibly boring, and he wouldn’t be able to talk to Ro and Pat for the three days he was driving, but he wasn’t about to book a plane ticket.   
He hated planes.  
Something about the uncontrollable nature of being lauched 35,000 feet into the air with a set of engines that could fail at any moment keeping him afloat made Logan want to stay as far from planes as he could.  
Before he got in the car, his bags already packed into the vehicle, he rolled up his sleeve and glanced down at his arm to see if there were any new messages from his soulmates.  
After their fourth had shown up last weekend, about five days ago, he had been patiently awaiting some sort of word from them. Any word from them.   
Pat had other ideas, though. They had insisted on writing as much as they could to the mystery soulmate. They actually washed off their arms for the first time in the time they had known each other. Logan did the same, at Pat’s insistence, as did Ro, and within no time at all, their arms were all blank canvases.   
Blank canvases that Pat and Ro were all too quick to fill in. Pat wrote little messages throughout the day, narrating his day, saying good night and good morning every day. Ro wrote about how excited he was for the start of school, and about how he was considering trying out for a part in a community theater play. Logan tried not to write too much - no more than normal, anyways - knowing that if their fourth had purposely ignored them for so long, they must have some reason. He didn’t want to overwhelm them and scare them off.   
“I’m heading out on the road. Talk to you two tonight.” He wrote in black ink.   
“Drive safe!” Pat’s scribbling script came first.   
Logan felt bad sometimes, knowing that Pat was writing with their non-dominant hand more often than not in order to talk to them. But he supposed it was even between them all because Ro and Logan wrote with their non-dominant hand when their left arms were covered.  
“See you soon! Drive safe!” Ro’s large looping writing came after a second.  
Logan drove for as long as he could before getting a motel room for the night. Two days in a row he did this, and at the end of the third day, he was nearly there.   
He pulled into a gas station an hour from his dorm and as he was waiting for the tank to fill up, he grabbed out his pen from the pocket of his shirt. He rolled his sleeves up and scritched in, splitting his attention between the gas pump and his writing, “I’ll be at my dorm in an hour. If you guys want to maybe meet me there, that would be great.” He gave them the address just in case, and after only a second, he got two check marks in response.   
He could feel his stomach fluttering just at seeing the small marks, and his heart quickened for a fraction of a second.   
The hour of driving passed so much slower than the last three days in total had passed. Logan had to be extra cautious in his driving, with his excitement distracting him. He didn’t want to get in a crash or anything.   
He pulled into the driveway of the dorm building, and as he was getting out of the car, he felt the skin on his cheek start to tingle. Either Pat or Ro was drawing something so they’d know it was him.   
He crouched down and looked in the side mirror, adjusting his glasses. Right underneath the lower rim of his glasses on his left cheek was a glittery blue heart. He smiled at the sight, touching it with a gentle brush of his fingers.   
Pat.   
He headed towards his dorm room, leaving his bags in the car. He could grab them late.  
As he approached the building, he spotted two men in front of it, talking with each other. A blue glittery heart on both of them  
They were both attractive in their own ways. The one he assumed was Ro - from his general demeanor - with his tanned skin and wavy brown hair, swept back from his face in a swooping curl that Logan thought was absolutely adorable. And then Pat with his fluffy mop of curly blond hair and cherubic face, his expression one of childlike excitement as soon as he saw Logan.  
He could hardly believe his luck.   
He had gotten not one but two unbelievably attractive soulmates. And most likely a third.  
He had a third.  
He had three soulmates.  
The chances of that were one in a million. It wasn’t exactly common to have two soulmates, but it was practically unheard of to have three.  
The air was knocked out of Logan as the man he assumed was Pat ran up to him, his arms wrapping around him in a rib crushing hug. He paused in surprise before he returned the hug, holding the much shorter male. The other man approached slower, but still in an excited hurry.  
“Oh, yeah, Pat’s a hugger,” he said, a smile on his face. As soon as Pat released him, Ro swept him up in a hug. “I am, too.”  
He was shorter than Logan as well, though not quite as much as Pat was.   
Logan wondered how tall their fourth was.  
When Ro grinned up at him, Logan couldn’t help but smile back, glancing from him to Pat.  
They exchanged names after a moment.   
Roman and Patton.  
He felt right at home with them. He felt as though a missing piece of him had been returned that he hadn’t even known was gone.  
It was strange, though, knowing that he was so happy in that moment and there was still someone missing.  
It was like the space between Roman and Patton was too wide.  
There was room for one more.  
“Logan, is everything okay?” Patton asked, his brows pulling together. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with the hug…”  
“No, no.” He waved away his worries and gave him a smile that quickly disappeared when he glanced yet again at the space between them. “It doesn’t feel right…”  
“Oh.” Roman deflated, his shoulders slumping and his face falling. The disappointment in his expression was soul crushing.  
“No, I didn’t mean… I meant that it doesn’t feel right without them. Without our fourth. I’ve been thinking about them a lot, you know. Wondering why they haven’t said anything or purposely made themselves known. Wondering why they don’t like us…”   
He hated that insecurity of his.  
The small, nagging feeling that wriggled in the back of his mind that everything was going to go south.   
That nobody liked him.  
He knew from a logical standpoint that it made no sense. Patton and Roman cared about him. His parents cared about him. His annoyance of a brother cared about him.   
But he couldn’t help but wonder what made their fourth want nothing to do with them.  
“Well…” Patton perked up. “We’ll just have to find him, then!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil dissociates when he's depressed and anxious.

All was silent for days.   
After a week of near nonstop tingling warmth in his arms, all was silent.  
There were two days - maybe three… they blended together at some point - where Virgil’s skin was no longer tingling.   
No longer warm.  
He had gotten so used to the contact that he was lost without it. Minutes blurred into hours. Hours blurred into days.  
He must have missed work at some point, because he got a call from his manager telling him that they were going to have to terminate his employment.  
It was fine.  
He had gotten an email back from the freelance writing site and he had been planning on putting in his two-weeks anyways.  
Everything was fine.  
They had finally given up on talking to him. Judging by the date that popped up on his phone, Lo had finally come to town, and they had each other.  
They didn’t need them.  
It was fine that they had given up on talking to him.  
Given up on him.  
It was fine.  
Everything was fine.  
He was happy for them, really.  
It was fine.  
He didn’t even believe himself.  
Virgil dragged himself out of bed, his legs aching as he stood. When was the last time he stood up? How long had he been in bed?  
How long had he wasted time he could have been doing something productive?  
How long had he been such a failure?  
Why was he such a fucking failure?  
His stomach growled loudly at him and he stumbled his way into the kitchen.  
When was the last time he ate?  
He decided on a bowl of cereal - something fast and easy - and sat himself down on the couch. He shivered, though the AC had been broken since before he moved in.  
He wasn’t sure when he got up to get his blanket, but when he came back to reality, the plush comforter was draped around his shoulders and over his head like a hood. He spooned his cereal into his mouth, not caring or even overly noticing that it was soggy now.   
Even though he knew he wasn’t going to get anything productive down, Virgil grabbed his laptop and opened it. He caught sight of his reflection in the black screen in the moment before it booted up, and he wanted to throw up.   
When had the circles under his eyes gotten so dark?   
He had had them for years, faded purple circles that deepened temporarily when he had a few especially sleepless nights. But they had never been this dark. His skin had never been this pale. Even when he was younger and he got a really bad flu.   
The laptop booted up quickly and his reflection was gone. He was thankful for that, at least. He didn’t have to look at himself.   
The hours blurred together as he stared at the word document for his novel. He was so close to being done, but he was stuck on the chapter right before the ending. He knew how he wanted the book to end. There was no doubt about that. But to get there was the trouble.   
Before he knew it, the entire day had passed him by. It was late when the warm tingling startled him out of his thoughts - even though he wasn’t getting anywhere with them - and he scrambled to roll up his sleeve, looking down at his arm.   
He didn’t want to see. He didn’t know why he looked.   
He hadn’t looked in a week.  
When he did look, his lips parted slightly in shock and his brows pulled together.   
He rolled up the other sleeve to look at his right arm, and his confusion only got stronger.   
Sure, his arms were covered in writing from before the silence, but it was different now.  
The writing was different.  
They had washed off the old drawings and scribbles from their arms and written in new. Pat’s scribbling scritches were the most frequent, with his days narrated and a “good morning my lovelies” every morning and “sweet dreams” every night. Ro’s was the next most frequent, with random messages about art, school, and the potential of being in a community play. Lo wrote the least of all, their messages smudged as if they had washed them away to make room for more of Pat’s and Ro’s writings. There were very few doodles.   
What had changed?  
His silent question was answered when he looked to the newest writing on his arm. A long block of writing from Lo that covered much of his inner left forearm.   
“To our fourth. We know that you exist, and I just wanted to tell you that it’s alright. I don’t quite understand why you wanted your existence to remain secret, nor do I understand why you seem to want nothing to do with us. Patton and Roman don’t know I’m writing to you - I said that I wouldn’t. We agreed to give you your space for a while, but I can’t help but ask”  
The writing stopped for a moment before it resumed, though it seemed more hesitant now, pausing with every letter.   
“Why do you hate us?”  
Virgil felt his heart stop at the words. He swore he was having a heart attack. His chest ached and his lungs stopped working.   
He clamped his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to surface as he gasped for air.   
He hadn’t meant to make them think he hated them.  
He didn’t hate them.  
He didn’t know them in order to hate them.  
He opened his eyes and stood up from the couch, tossing his laptop to the cushion beside him.   
Pen.  
He needed a pen.  
Where the fuck were all his pens?  
He found his purple gel pen after a minute and he uncapped it.  
And froze.  
What was he going to say?  
What could he say?  
What would be significant enough to apologize for months of ignoring them?  
He wrote in hesitant, jagged script that blurred when his tears fell on his skin.   
“I don’t hate you. -V”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan tells Patton and Roman of his exchange with their mysterious fourth, V.

Patton woke up to his phone ringing. He sat up in bed, rubbing the rest of the sleep from his eyes. The dark circles had been especially dark lately, and he had to wonder which of his soulmates wasn’t getting sleep. But he didn’t have time for that.   
He grasped for his phone blindly with one hand, grabbing for his glasses with the other. Settling the round lenses in their place on his face, he looked at the screen of his phone. He had three missed calls and a voicemail from Logan as well as two texts from Roman. He read the texts first, knowing that if he listened to the voicemail first he wouldn’t end up reading the texts.  
Roman’s texts were simple good morning texts.   
Patton smiled, reading them, and replied in a couple swipes of his finger.   
The voicemail was more important.  
Logan’s voice was frantic. In the few days that he had known him, he had been a very put-together person. Never at a loss for words. Never stuttering. A calm, even pitch in his voice.   
But as Patton listened to the voicemail from him, panic fluttered in his chest as he heard his tone of voice. Logan was stuttering, repeating sentences and altering one word or another. Logan’s voice was high and shrill in some words and cracking in others.   
The general message from him was telling Patton to meet him at his dorm. He said it was important and that Roman was on his way, too.  
Patton called Roman, climbing out of bed and opening his closet door in search of some clothes. Roman picked up on the second ring.  
“Yes, my sweet?” Roman greeted him, making Patton duck his head with a smile, even though he knew Roman couldn’t see him.   
He must have made a small squeaking noise of surprise, because Roman chuckled.   
“Can you give me a ride to Logan’s dorm? I just got his voicemail.”  
As he said the words, a car horn honked outside his apartment building, and he could hear the smile in Roman’s voice. “I’m parked outside. Whenever you’re ready, come on down. We can grab breakfast on the way over.”  
Patton voiced his assent and hung up the phone before getting dressed as quickly as he could manage, throwing on a light blue graphic tee and khakis before running down the stairwell. He jumped down the last two stairs, his stomach fluttering at the shock that went up his legs when he hit the ground.   
Roman was standing outside his car, leaning against the side of it with the door open. When he saw Patton, he grinned and approached him, meeting him at the front of the vehicle. He pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and opened the passenger side door for him.   
“Such a gentleman,” Patton mused jokingly, to which Roman rolled his eyes, snorting quietly. He closed the door once Patton was seated and he moved around to the other side, getting into the vehicle himself.   
They arrived at Logan’s dorm room within the half-hour, breakfast in hand, and when they sat down in the small space, Logan was nearly bouncing in his excitement.  
From what Patton and Roman had seen of him so far, Logan wasn’t the type of person to show his excitement too much on the outside. He seemed more guarded than that. But it was obvious that he was physically restraining himself from bouncing where he sat at the foot of his bed.   
Patton was the one to break the silence.   
“What happened?”  
Logan grabbed his phone and unlocked it with frantic fingers, opening up his gallery and turning the phone around to show them the screen.  
There, right in front of them, was a picture of what appeared to be Logan’s arm, but there was writing on it. Black ink in Logan’s handwriting, and then purple ink in a new handwriting.   
Signed V.   
Was V their fourth?  
Patton finished reading it first and he squeaked in his excitement, grabbing hold of Roman’s arm and sitting up as straight as he could. He waited patiently for another minute as Roman read over it once, twice, a third time before he understood fully what he was seeing.   
His eyes widened and he looked up from the phone, looking from Logan to Patton and back.   
“Did they…?”  
Logan nodded, smiling slightly, his glasses slipping down his nose and his usually perfectly neat hair falling in front of his face. “I washed it off afterwards, and I’m assuming they did the same. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”  
Patton was already scrambling into his pocket for his gel pen, tossing the cap aside carelessly. Roman grabbed his hand before he could write on his skin, and Patton looked up at him.  
“Pat, we have to be careful about this. I mean, they’ve been ignoring us for how long now? What makes you think they’re going to want anything to do with us?”  
“But… he wrote to us.” Patton’s shoulders slumped.   
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Roman,” Logan said with a sigh, his smile having faded. It seemed he was back to being the composed figure they knew and loved. “While it’s a good thing that they’ve written to us, I want you to take another look at the picture.”   
He held the phone out to him again and Patton took it in his hands, zooming in on the purple ink. It was smudged as if someone had dripped water on it, the words blurring together slightly in the middle.  
“Is that… was he crying?”  
His brows pulled together and he handed the phone back to Logan, who shrugged and nodded at the same time.   
“I believe so, though I can’t say for certain.”  
“Well, I don’t want to hurt the poor guy.”  
“We’re going to have to be really careful about how we approach any conversation with him.”  
“Maybe just saying hi?” Roman suggested with a shrug. “It’s a start.”  
“But they didn’t respond when you said hello when we first started talking. What makes you think they would this time?”  
“Well we have to say something. We can’t just let them sit wherever they are, sad and lonely.”   
Patton was sitting in silence, his mind racing. He recalled the week previously when the nice, anxious emo boy had brought that kitten into the shelter.   
He’d had dark circles under his eyes.   
And a cat allergy.  
Something Patton had learned all of his soulmates had.  
And he had been wearing purple… something. A shirt, maybe.  
The memory was fuzzy.  
It couldn’t be that simple.  
No way would it be that simple.  
But… the way he had reacted when he had mentioned his soulmate having a cat allergy...  
What had his name been?  
Heck, what was his name?  
“Logan, what did he sign with last night?” He asked suddenly, perking up as his thoughts connected together.   
“Just the letter V. Why do you ask?”  
“I think I know who he is.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil decides to talk to his soulmates

Virgil was a man of few words. Sure, he spoke when was necessary, but not much aside from that. Words just weren’t his strong suit, when spoken aloud. There was too much that could go wrong with speaking.  
He could stutter, stumbling as his words fell clumsily off his tongue.  
He could say the wrong thing altogether.  
It was so much easier to write things out in front of him where he didn’t have to risk his voice betraying him.  
So why was it so fucking hard to figure out what to say to them?  
When Virgil woke up early in the afternoon, it took him a moment to remember what he had done the previous night. To remember when he wrote to Lo.  
He wrote to Lo.  
Fuck.  
Fuck.  
Fuckfuckfuck.  
What was he thinking?  
What was wrong with him?  
He closed his eyes and held his arm out in front of him. Took a deep breath. And opened his eyes, looking down at the arm, afraid of what he might see.  
Nothing.  
Not even the notes that had been there last night.  
There were no words on his arms, no doodles, no smudges of ink or paint, no marker.  
Nothing.  
They had washed it all off.  
Pat, Ro, and Lo had washed off the ink.  
No… Patton, Roman, and Lo.  
Two of his soulmates were male, judging by their names, and he was willing to bet that Lo was as well. He stared at his arm for longer than he cared to admit, hoping for… what, exactly?  
For them to write to him?  
For them to not write to him?  
For him to find the words to say.  
Eventually, Virgil shook his head and pulled his sleeve back down. He had to distract himself from them somehow. From the blank canvas that was his skin. If he didn’t, he was sure he was going to go insane. If he wasn’t already.  
He prepared himself an actual meal for the first time in weeks, one earbud in his ear with loud music playing to distract his thoughts. He scanned the freelance website for jobs and actually managed to find a few that he was qualified for and sent in queries.  
One person got back to him immediately. A college student who needed their essay for Music History written, claiming they had stayed out all night with friends and had forgotten completely.  
Virgil didn’t overly care why they needed it done. He was getting paid, and that was all that mattered. After asking for some specifications on the topic, he set to work. He researched and took notes for hours, chewing the inside of his cheek raw. And when the essay was done, he sent it immediately to the person, slouching on the couch as if it had worn him out.  
It had.  
But it had distracted his mind and he hadn’t thought about them in hours.  
His soulmates.  
He looked down at his shirt sleeve, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Why hadn’t they written to him? They knew now for certain that he existed, and he had written to them. Maybe they were waiting for him to write something first, he tried reasoning with himself, but he couldn’t know for sure, and he certainly didn’t want to pester them. He didn’t want to make them hate him.  
God, when had he started giving two shits about their opinion at all?  
Virgil took a deep breath and, rather than reaching for the gel pen at his side, he instead grabbed his cell phone from his pocket. He pressed the contact icon for his grandma, knowing that she would know what to do. And it had been so long since he had spoken to her. He didn’t think he had called her since maybe the first week of him living on his own.  
She picked up on the fourth ring, and Virgil could hear the joy in her voice when she said “Virgil, sweetie, hi!”  
Relief flooded through him as his anxiety and worries melted away at just the sound of her voice. “Gran,” he sobbed, the weight of all his troubles leaving him overwhelming him.  
“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed. “What’s wrong?”  
Virgil pulled his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself and holding his phone with both hands. He didn’t know how to even start explaining the situation to her. He didn’t know if she would understand. Sure, she knew that some people had more than one soulmate, but he had never heard of anyone having more than two.  
“I have three soulmates,” he blurted out, deciding to say it like he was ripping off a bandaid.  
“Oh! Have you finally been talking to them?”  
He paused. “W… well, not really… Did you know I had three soulmates, gran? You don’t sound very surprised.  
“I didn’t know for sure, but your parents and I had our suspicions. You had four birthmarks when you were born. Now, sweetie, why don’t you tell me what’s got you so upset?”  
“Just…” He shrugged, uncurling and fidgeting with his shirt sleeve. “Anxiety… stuff…”  
“Have you called that therapist Dr Picani suggested?”  
“No,” he mumbled.  
“Why not? I don’t want you just sitting all by yourself letting yourself worry about everything.”  
He was silent for a moment, and eventually, he heard her sigh.  
“Alright, sweetie. Why don’t you tell me why you won’t talk to your soulmates, then? I never quite understood why you refused to talk to them and why you went so far to cover up what they were writing to you.”  
He chewed the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tasted blood in his mouth. “I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to get hurt.”  
“You won’t. I know you, Virgil, sweetheart, and I know that you’re not going to take any crap from anyone. You’ve got to give them a chance, though. Even if it’s just writing to them. You have to start somewhere, though.”  
“I don’t know what to say.”  
“Maybe try saying hello, and go from there. Trust me, dear, it’s worth it even if you just talk to them. You don’t have to try to pursue a relationship with them if you don’t want to. You can just be friends with them. You need more friends.”  
“But they’re my soulmates.”  
“And there’s such a thing as platonic soulmates. Remy has a platonic soulmate, and they’re perfectly happy with each other.”  
Virgil recalled somewhere in the back of his mind meeting his cousin, Remy, shortly after their grandpa’s funeral.  
“Look, I’m not saying you have to decide right now,” his grandma continued. “But give it some thought, okay?”  
“Alright, Gran. One more thing? Before you go.”  
“Yes, dear?”  
“My soulmates…” He paused, swallowing hard. How the hell was he supposed to tell her this? “They’re… at least two of them… are guys.”  
“Oh! Well, whatever makes you happy, sweetie. I love you no matter what.”  
He smiled. “I love you, too, gran. I miss you.”  
“I miss you, too. Call me before another month passes, okay?”  
“Alright,” he laughed before bidding her goodbye and hanging up the phone.  
His eyes landed on the gel pen beside him on the couch, and he took a deep breath before grabbing the pen and pulling up the sleeve of his shirt.  
“Hello.”  
His jagged writing stared back at him for a minute before blue glittery ink appeared directly below it.  
“Hi there! The others are at orientation right now, but hi. How are you?”  
“I’m ok.” When Patton didn’t reply immediately, Virgil hesitated before adding, “Why did you guys stop writing?”  
“We didn’t want to overwhelm you. We noticed the tear smudge on your message to Logan last night.”  
Logan. So, all three of his soulmates were men. It took him only a second to realize just how okay he was with that. He had assumed for so long that his soulmate would be female, and somehow now that he knew none of them were, he was more open to the concept of them. Or maybe it was just knowing that there was no pressure to be romantic.  
“I like the writing.”  
“Oh! Well, I can tell the others to start writing again, if you want.”  
“Please.”  
“What’s your name, by the way?”  
“Just V is fine.”  
Better if they didn’t know his name just yet. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing this, and it would be better if they didn’t get too attached to him until he was certain he wasn’t going to stop.  
“Well V, I’m Patton. Logan writes in black ink, and Roman writes in red ink. You probably already knew that, though.”  
He drew in a quick check mark next to his words.  
And he was silent again. Hours passed, and eventually, the tingling in his arms started up again.  
It was everywhere.  
Every inch of the skin on his arms was alive, spreading up to his shoulder, to his chest, down his legs.  
On shaking legs, Virgil stumbled into the bathroom and undressed, looking in the mirror at himself.  
He was painted.  
Every inch of his skin was colored in a swirling kaleidoscopic miracle. Reds and blues and blacks and purples blended together. As he stared at himself, finally meeting his eyes in the mirror and seeing that the spiraling designs painted along his jawline as well, it was all he could do not to start crying. There was so much emotion pouring into every fiber of his being. In every swirl of the paintbrush, he could feel love being poured into him.  
Love and life and acceptance.  
He let the tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to let you all know, I am scheduling a short hiatus from updates next weekend. From August probably 1st to 4th, I won't be able to update on here. If all goes well, I'll have the chapters done and scheduled to be posted on tumblr in time, but I make no promises. If you would like to follow me on tumblr, you can find me @probablynothumanish and if you want to follow this fic on tumblr, I have two tags.   
> #finding the write words  
> #fic: finding the write words


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Roman paint for Virgil

It had been Roman’s idea. Of course, it was Roman’s idea. The beautiful, dramatic summer child could never take a subtle approach to things. No, that would be too easy.   
Why Logan agreed to it, though, was completely unknown. It was obvious why Patton agreed to it; he had practically squealed at the idea. But Logan… Logan got the brunt of it.   
Standing in front of his soulmates in naught but his boxers, Logan shifted uncomfortably. They had decided to do this in Roman’s apartment, as he already had a studio and the paints were all here anyways. Plus, he had the most privacy of them all in his apartment.   
Why had Logan agreed to this?  
Roman dug through a drawer of paints, picking out his older, cheaper bottles, and a handful of brushes before bringing them back to Logan and Patton. Patton refused to look at Logan. The pink blush of his had spread over much of his entire face, appearing on the others as well. Roman pressed a kiss to Patton’s forehead and one to Logan’s cheek.   
“Calm down, you two. If you don’t, he’s going to know something’s up.”  
“He probably already does. I just stopped talking to him, and we haven’t written anything in hours,” Patton mumbled.  
“Yes, but you have to remember. You’re blushing, and that shows up on him, too. His dark eye circles show up on us.”  
Patton took a deep breath, calming himself, and Roman looked at Logan until he did the same.   
“Alright, now. No need to be so prudish, you two. It’s just a body. We’re all men.”  
“While that is correct, Roman,” Logan began with a voice that trembled slightly. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I am without clothes while you two are fully dressed, and to be frank, I feel a bit exposed.”  
“Well, here.” Roman shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside before his pants joined them. “There. Now we’re both undressed. Better?”  
Logan glanced towards Patton.  
Patton’s face grew red now, and he ducked his head, squeaking in surprise at seeing the both of them. His hands went up to cover his face and he peeked at them through his fingers. They were gorgeous. If he had thought they were attractive before…   
Roman had the body of a dancer. Lithe and lean, his muscles shifting with every move he made in a way that made Patton’s head spin. And Logan… Logan was tall and thin and though there was little visible musculature, every inch of his skin was a marvel.   
Shit, they were looking at him.  
“Pat,” Roman purred, leaning down close to him. Patton’s eyes lingered just a tad too long at his abdomen. “Would you do us a favor? Just so none of us feel left out? We want to get this done as soon as possible, don’t we?”  
He nodded deftly and slowly undressed, discarding his clothes in the pile with Logan’s and Roman’s. He fought the urge to cover himself up with his hands, and Roman pressed another kiss to his forehead.   
“You’re so pretty. You both are.”  
Logan hid a smile at his words, and Patton relaxed after a moment, his blush fading. “Should… should we get started?”  
Roman nodded and handed Patton a paintbrush and squeezed out some paint in purple, black, blue, and red onto his palette. They finished rather quickly, Roman’s brush swiping with one more splash of purple on the front of Logan’s thigh, and Roman and Patton leaned back to admire their handiwork.   
Patton wasn’t an artist, by any means, his brush strokes sloppy and smudged in comparison to Roman’s, but he loved it anyways. They had made a work of art, and Logan smiled down at them, his eyes flickering over their colored bodies.   
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his words coming out in a breath.   
“It’s a shame we’ll have to wash it off soon,” Roman said with a sigh.   
“What? Why?”  
“Well, Patton can’t go to work with paint on his face, and I don’t imagine V will want to, either.”  
“Besides,” Patton spoke up, rubbing at a smudge of paint he had gotten on the side of his hand, “V said he likes the writing, and we can’t write if we’re covered in paint.”  
“I can take pictures of it, though, if you want to save it, Lo,” Roman offered, seeing Logan’s disappointment.  
“Could we?”   
Roman smiled, nodding, and got out his camera. He snapped a few pictures of the painting on Logan’s body and on Patton’s body before handing the camera to Logan to take a picture of him.  
They watched, and waited… hoping V would see it. Hoping V would say something.  
And he did.   
It was just a heart drawn in quickly on his cheekbone, but it was something.   
After Logan was finished washing up, and the paint was gone from all their skin, the purple heart V had drawn disappeared as well, smudging before fading from existence altogether.  
“You’re a very good artist” his jagged words appeared on their left arms. It was similar to Patton’s handwriting when he was using his nondominant hand, but something told them that V wasn’t. He was just right-handed with less-than-stellar handwriting.   
Logan found that endearing, for some reason, and he joined Patton and Roman in the living room, now that they were all fully dressed once again.   
“Thank you,” Roman replied. “I had help from Patton, though.”  
A month passed, and the three of them managed to balance their time pretty equally between dates with each other, work, and school. And of course, V.  
He still wouldn’t reveal his name. After the first time, none of them asked for it again, and they made sure never to pressure him into difficult conversation or even bring up the possibility of them meeting him. Patton had told them how jumpy he had seemed when he met him.  
If that emo boy who had brought in the cat had indeed been him.  
And he was certain that it was.  
Virgil Sinclair.  
V.  
They didn’t want to scare him off, and when he would go hours… days… without writing to them, they were gripped with fear that they had somehow. Or that he had decided not to talk to them anymore.  
Logan was the worst of all, surprisingly, when it came to being ignored by V. Sure, he understood logically that he was probably just anxious and that everything would be alright, but he was absolutely terrified that he had done something wrong.  
That he had said the wrong thing and V was upset with him and he had ruined their chances at being with their fourth.  
Despite this, Logan was the one to quickly calm Patton and Roman when they got upset about V ignoring them. It didn’t take much: just a few cooed words, a couple kisses, and a hug, and they would be able to look at things with a more level-headed stance.  
Besides, V always wrote back to them. Even if it took him a few days, he always wrote back.  
Logan was in class when V broke the silence this time. He glanced down at his arm, though still paying close to full attention to the professor, and saw the writing appearing on his arm.   
“Hands gripped at an icy surface, scrabbling for some purchase. His heart pulsed in every part of him, shaking his breath on its way out. -fix that, that sucks” And then, as an afterthought, “sorry, left my notebook at home and phones dead.”  
Logan’s phone lit up and he quickly checked the message. It was from Roman.  
“Did you see?”  
“I did.”  
“Is he writing a novel?” Patton asked, joining in the group chat. “It looks like he’s writing a novel”  
“Is our V an author?????” Roman asked, using way more question marks than necessary.   
“Why not ask him? I’m trying to pay attention in class.” Logan’s text seemed harsh to his eyes, so he let out a quiet sigh and added “I’ll talk to you in an hour” followed by a heart emoki.   
Patton and Roman each sent hearts in response and Logan flicked his phone off, setting it aside and returning his attention to the professor, immersing himself in the lesson.  
Virgil sat in the coffee shop, silently cursing hismelf for forgetting to plug in his phone the night before. Of course his phone just had to die as soon as he got inspiration for the scene that had been troubling him for a month now.   
Of course.  
He waited patiently for his drink, fiddling with the pen in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. His eyes scanned the coffee shop, his body tense and rigid, and he jumped at every sudden sound. A customer pushed back her chair to sit down and Virgil quickly spun around to look at the source of the sound.   
What was wrong with him?  
Everything was too much right now.  
The grinding of the coffee machine.  
The dinging of the register.   
The tingling on his arm that had started up shortly after he had taken down the note for his writing.   
It was all too much.   
As soon as his drink order was called out and the cup set on the counter, Virgil grabbed the drink and left the shop as quickly as he could.   
And ran directly into someone.   
Fuck.  
Fuck.  
Fuckfuckfuck.  
He looked up, flicking the spilled iced coffee from his fingers, and froze.  
He was absolutely fucking beautiful.  
The man, who was taller than Virgil by maybe half a head and had perfectly swooping brown hair and tanned skin that somehow managed to hide the dark circles under his eyes, looked down at Virgil.   
“Oh, I’m sorry!” he chimed.  
Virgil’s eyes flickered briefly down the man’s body.   
Fuck.  
Fuckity fucking fuck.  
He was dressed in a tight black unitard with a red sheer crop top and red leg warmers. Virgil could see every curve of his body.  
“I… uh… you....” Virgil cleared his throat, ducking his head. “Bye.”  
He rushed off, his heart racing. It wasn’t until he got back to his apartment that he was able to form a solid thought. There was something about that man that was strangely familiar. Strangely… home.  
That was what it was.   
He felt like home.  
Roman stepped up to the cash register, ordered his coffee, and stepped aside to wait. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to the group chat with Logan and Patton.  
“Holy shit, V’s hot.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Logan go to the bookstore.

“I told you not to seek him out, Ro,” Logan chastised as Roman handed him a coffee, meeting him on his way out of class.   
“Hello to you, too,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek.   
Logan adjusted his glasses to try to hide the blush that sprouted up across his cheeks, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his coffee.   
“Don’t worry, though, Lo Lo. I didn’t seek him out. I was just on my way to get coffee and ran into him.”  
Quite literally, he thought with a chuckle. He took Logan’s hand and as they started off campus. Logan twined his fingers between Roman’s, his thumb rubbing idly against the side of Roman’s hand.   
“Did he say anything?” he asked as Roman took a sip of his own half-empty coffee.  
“Not really. He apologized for bumping into me and ran off.”  
“Well, then how do you know it was him?”  
Roman shrugged dramatically. “Patton told us what he looked like, right, and it just felt right. Y’know, like when we met and it felt like home? It was like that.”  
“I see. I wonder if that’s something that happens with all soulmates,” he mused. “I’ll have to look into that.”  
He hummed thoughtfully in response and laid his head against Logan’s shoulder as they walked. “How was class, my lovely?” he asked after a long moment of comfortable silence.  
He was so comfortable with Logan. He was comfortable with Patton, too, but it was different with each of them. Patton filled the silence with jokes and excited chatter, his joy infectious. Logan, however, was more than happy to walk in silence, simply enjoying the world around them. Roman was happy with either situation.   
He loved them both so much.  
He loved Logan’s intellect, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about his classes, the way his voice pitched up when Roman snuck up behind him with a hug, the way he tried to hide how easily flustered he got.  
He loved Patton’s morality, the way he went out of his way to do everything possible to make them happy, the way his eyes lit up when he was baking cookies or when he was talking about a new animal at work, the way he hid his obviously-red face when either of them kissed his cheek.  
They were so innocent.  
It was adorable.  
Logan rambled about his astronomy class for the rest of the walk towards Roman’s apartment, his eyes alight. When they arrived at the apartment, Roman pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s forehead as he sat down on the couch. He left him in the living room and took a quick shower to wash off the sweat from his dance class before getting dressed and rejoining Logan.  
“Are you good to go, lovely?” he asked, leaning down over him. Logan tilted his head up to look at him, and Roman kissed his nose.  
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Where are we going today?”  
Roman chuckled, loving the pink that graced Logan’s cheeks, knowing that it appeared on himself and the others as well. He held his hand out and helped Logan to his feet. “‘m taking you to The Book Loft.”  
Logan gasped silently, his brows raising in his excitement. He had heard about the thirty-two-room book store but hadn’t been able to make it out there yet. Roman knew they only had a few hours before Patton got off of work, and they wanted to pick him up so he didn’t have to walk all the way home, but he was looking forward to seeing just how excited Logan got in the book store.  
His adorable little nerd.  
It was everything he had hoped for, and more, as he watched Logan flip through the pages of a book on space travel and newfound planets. His eyes were fixated on the page, scanning over the words like he was hungry for them, his insatiable yearning for knowledge spurning him on.   
When they finished up in the science section, Roman led Logan towards the small section on arts, wanting to see if they had any books on painting techniques, as most of what he was able to find online had to do with either abstract art or digital painting. They turned the corner, and Roman froze. Logan crashed into him, dropping the book in his hands, and Roman spun around, urging Logan to back up.   
He did so, brows pulling forward in confusion, and Roman whispered, “V is in there.”  
“What? What’s he doing here?”  
“I don’t know. But we have to go.”  
“Why?”  
“We’ll make him think we’re creeping on him or something.”  
“Roman, as far as he knows, we don’t know his name or where he is. Besides, he knows what Patton looks like, but neither of us. Let’s go look for your art books.”  
He nodded after another moment of thought, and let out a deep breath. “Alright, but don’t say our names where he can hear. I don’t want to freak him out.”  
“Understandable, dear heart.”  
It was Roman’s turn to blush now. He stuttered, unable to speak for a moment at the nickname, and cleared his throat when he saw the tiny smirk on Logan’s face.   
“Pull it together, Roman,” he mumbled to himself, hiding his face momentarily before he was able to get the blush to fade away.   
He took hold of Logan’s hand, entwining their fingers, and turned the corner. He heard Logan’s breath catch in his throat when he laid eyes on V.   
He was standing in the far corner of the room, the hood of his black jacket up, covering most of his face and dyed purple hair, though tufts of it jutted out the front, falling over his pale skin. He was so small. Taller than Patton, sure, but who wasn’t? He was much shorter than either Roman or Logan, though. They could see the soft curve of his thighs underneath his tight ripped black jeans, and they imagined he would be even shorter without the thick, clunky combat boots he wore. The black polish on his nails shone in the light of the room as he reached up to the top shelf for a book, lifting himself up on the tips of his toes.   
Logan approached him, letting go of Roman’s hand, and V froze as soon as Logan got close enough to be within eyesight.   
V turned to him, taking out an earbud from one ear, and Logan was, once again, floored.   
Roman’s text had been an understatement.   
Crap.  
It took him only a second to recover, however, and he cleared his throat, ignoring the slight blush that cropped up on V’s face. He knew it was his blush, and as soon as he saw it on V that this was him. This was their fourth.  
“Did you need some help?”  
“Y… yeah, if you wouldn’t mind. That… uh…” He shifted, pointing towards a book on the top shelf about writing dynamic characters. “That one.”  
Logan grabbed the book from the shelf and handed it to him, smiling.   
“Thank.... Thank you.” He forced a smile and nodded once, taking the book from Logan and replacing his earbud to its rightful place.   
Roman and Logan returned to looking through the books the store had to offer, and when they walked out after checking out with their books, they found V walking along the side of the road, hands in his pockets, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist.   
“Need a ride?” Roman called over to him, mostly assuming he wouldn’t hear him since he had put in the earbuds earlier.  
V turned to them, confusion on his face and one of his earbuds dangling in front of him, and pointed to himself.  
“Yeah, you. It’s hot as hell out here, and you’re dressed in pants and a sweater.”  
He paused, panic obvious on his face, and his eyes flickered from Logan to Roman, his body tense.   
“You don’t have to accept,” Logan interjected. “Just figured we’d offer.”  
“Yeah, I… uh… thanks.” He fiddled with something in his pocket - his phone, they realized, as the light of the screen shone through the fabric - and approached them. He looked like a deer in the headlights, ready to sprint in a moment if anything went wrong, ready to call for help.   
“We have to go pick up our boyfriend from work, though. Is that alright?”  
V nodded, pressing his lips thinly together as he climbed in the backseat as Roman held the door open for him. He shut the door behind him and turned to Logan, giving him a look that said “We’re either insane or geniuses.” Logan smiled slightly, rolling his eyes, and got into the passenger seat.   
They drove in silence, V sitting rigidly in the seat, both earbuds dangling in front of him, the cord draped around his neck. One of his hands was in his pocket, on his phone, and the other was on the door handle. Logan glanced over his shoulder at him, and eventually, Roman cleared his throat to break the silence.  
“So, are you writing a book or something?”  
“Huh?” V looked up at him, staring at the rearview mirror.   
“The book you bought.”  
“Oh. Yeah.” His brows pulled together for a moment before he went back to looking out the window, watching the scenery pass by. “I guess.”  
“What side of town did you say you lived on, again? So I know where I’m taking you after we pick up our boyfriend.”  
“Brookshire. Southwest corner of Columbus.”  
“Oh, cool. We’re headed that way anyways.”  
V nodded, though they suspected he didn’t really care. He just looked out the window.  
He didn’t look away when Logan started talking animatedly about the book on star systems he had bought.  
He didn’t look away when Roman parked on the side of the street.  
And he didn’t look away when Patton stepped out of the pet shop.   
He did, however, look away when Patton greeted Logan and Roman with that unmistakeable chiming bell of a voice, opening the door opposite of V.   
And froze.  
Patton’s eyes widened, his jaw falling slack for a fraction of a second before he grinned widely. He looked away from V, turning his attention to Logan and Roman in the front seat.   
“What--”  
V’s door opened.  
He leaped out of the car like it was on fire, and before any of them could say anything, he was sprinting. Roman opened his door and got out of the car, preparing to run after him, and Logan reached over, grabbing his arm.   
“Don’t.”  
And even if he wanted to, it was too late. He was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

Virgil couldn’t breathe.   
His heart was racing in his chest as he slammed his apartment door shut, clicking the dead bolt into place.   
His head spun and he couldn’t breathe.  
He couldn’t breathe.  
His lungs were on fire.  
Every inch of his skin was alive, tingling and warm.  
Too warm.  
Fire.  
Everything was on fire.  
He took off his jacket, throwing it across the room like it had offended him.  
How did they find him?  
Why did they try to trick him into finding out where he lived?  
Why were they writing to him?  
Why couldn’t he breathe!?  
He sank to his knees, his lungs spasming as they tried to grab onto air that wouldn’t come.  
His eyes squeezed shut and his hands balled into fists.   
It burned hotter when he finally was able to breathe, fire coursing through every vein in his body.   
And when he was able to open his eyes, his panic slowly ebbing away, anger replaced it, filling up all the holes in his facade that the panic left. He stood up suddenly, gritting his teeth against the way the room went dark and his head spun for a second, and made his way to the couch. Sinking into the cushions, he took a deep breath, relishing in the air that flooded into his lungs, even though it hurt.   
Virgil stared down at his bare arm, tears blurring his vision. He swiped them away, annoyed that they had cropped up, and stared at the words on his arm, not registering them until he read over them a few times.  
“Are you okay?” Blue ink.   
“I’m sorry, V. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Red ink.  
“Please come back.” Black ink.  
“V, please.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
His hand shook as he grabbed his spare pen from the spiral of his notebook, his purple gel pen being in his hoodie pocket all the way across the room.   
He was insane.  
This was crazy.  
Wasn’t it?  
He scritched out his address on his arm before he had the chance to change his mind, and trudged his way across the room to grab his hoodie. He shrugged it back on, hiding his figure and hiding his arms.  
They were tingling again.  
They were writing.  
He didn’t care.  
Only minutes later, there was a knock at his door, and his stomach pitched uncomfortably.   
Fuck.  
What was he thinking?  
It was too late.  
Well, he could always just not answer the door. They would go away eventually, and it would be like nothing had happened. Sure, he would have to be careful about going out in town, but it wasn’t impossible.   
No.  
He had to face them.  
Taking a deep breath, Virgil opened the door, and saw the three of them standing in the hallway. He paused before silently opening the door further for them to enter.  
“Are you okay, V? I’m sorry we scared you,” Patton said gently once the three of him were in the apartment.  
They were in his house.  
His soulmates were in his apartment.  
This was a dream.  
He was going to wake up any second.  
He didn’t know if he wanted to or not.  
He nodded. “It’s fine.”  
“I’m Roman, and this is Logan. And you already met Patton,” the one who had bumped into him at the coffee shop said.   
He nodded, knowing they were waiting for him to give his name in return.  
He didn’t.  
“How did you find me?”  
Roman paused and glanced towards Logan, who cleared his throat. “We didn’t mean to, V. Patton recalled when you brought the cat into the shelter, and when he saw your initial and handwriting, he thought maybe you were our fourth. He told us what you looked like, and when we saw you at the book shop, we figured we would give it a chance.”  
“Why did you run?” Patton asked. “I just don’t… I don’t understand…”  
He shrugged, even though he did know. He didn’t have the words at hand to explain it fully, and he had been set immediately on edge as soon as they entered his house.  
“V,”Roman began after a moment, glancing around the apartment. It wasn’t much to look at. A very small, cramped space with a rickety sofa, the springs visible underneath the outer fabric of the cushions, the rusty, dripping faucet in the kitchen, the too-loud fridge… “You live here?”  
And Virgil suddenly felt overwhelmingly insecure about his apartment. As if he thought Roman thought it was his fault that it was in such bad shape.   
He wanted to curl in on himself. Wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.  
He settled for rubbing the back of his neck, cringing slightly. “Yeah. It’s not much, but… uh… it’s… well, it’s home.”  
He hated the look of pity that appeared on Roman’s face before Logan bumped his shoulder against him and the pity disappeared.   
Patton moved to take a step towards Virgil, who unconsciously tensed up, his eyes growing wide as he stepped back. Patton froze and looked to Roman and Logan for help, pain in his eyes.   
“I can’t,” Virgil rasped as if his words burned on their way out.  
They did.  
“Can’t what?” Patton asked.   
“This soulmate thing is stupid. You guys know that, right? It… it’s not… there’s no… It’s unrealistic.” His cheeks warmed and he could see his blush on the others as he stuttered over his words.   
He silently cursed himself.   
He wanted to disappear.   
He wanted them to leave.   
“What do you mean, V?” Roman stepped forward this time, and Virgil froze. Roman rested his hand on Virgil’s shoulder casually, as if it was the most normal action in the world.   
Virgil flinched away from his touch, stepping back once more and nearly tripping as he backed into the back of the couch. He didn’t want them to touch him.   
He didn’t want them near him.  
He hated way his stomach fluttered, flipping upside down and inside out, in just the slight brush of their touch. He had felt it when he’d handed the kitten to Patton a month ago. He had felt it when he’d bumped into Roman earlier that day. And he had felt it when Logan’s hand brushed his when handing him the book earlier.   
He hated it.  
What was wrong with him?  
Roman paused, confusion flitting across his face, his hand still in the air where Virgil had stood moments ago.   
“It’s not real,” he mumbled, refusing to meet any of their eyes. Refusing to look at them. “There’s… there’s no way that, uh, that there can be anyone that perfect for me. For anyone. Love isn’t real! People fight, people get hurt, and I don’t want to be one of them.”  
The look on Patton’s face at his words would have been enough to make him break down if he had been looking.  
But he refused.  
He knew very well the effect his words would have on them.   
He stared at the floor in front of their feet, watching them in case they decided to move towards him.   
“V…” It was Logan who spoke, calm and steady, though his own insecurities drifted into his voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. That’s the last thing any of us wants, honestly. We just want to get to know you better. Since you seem put off by the romantic aspect of things, maybe we are platonic soulmates. Will you at least give us the opportunity to explore that aspect of things? Please?”  
His voice broke on the final word, cracking, and when Virgil looked up at him, he was surprised to see tears in his eyes. Logan’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, though he was doing his best to hide that.   
“And if at any point you decide you want nothing to do with us, we’ll leave,” Roman interjected. “We won’t push you into anything, even friendship, V.”  
“Virgil,” he mumbled, briefly meeting Roman’s gaze before his eyes flickered back to the floor. “And yes. I’ll give it a shot, I guess.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Logan don't go on a date.

Virgil stood in front of his open dresser, staring down at all the clothes spewing out of the cramped drawer. He didn’t know why it was even so overfull. He owned like four shirts and maybe six pairs of black skinny jeans. On all accounts, it made no sense. He dug through the drawer for the sixth time, hoping to find something that didn’t make him look like a corpse.  
Why were all his clothes in varying, mismatching shades of black?   
He knew he had something purple somewhere.   
Where the hell was it?  
He eventually found it - balled up and wedged in the back corner of the drawer - and pulled it on before looking down at himself. It was wrinkled to hell.   
Fuck.  
He couldn’t go out looking like this, but he didn’t have any other non-black shirts.   
He supposed he could go with his purple jacket instead of his favorite black one, but it was another hot day and that one was thicker than the black one.   
Why did he care?  
It wasn’t a date. He had been very clear about that. He had confirmed at least five times that it was just two people getting to know each other in a platonic setting.   
Besides, Logan didn’t seem to overly care what clothes people wore. Patton’s favorite shirt was literally a V-neck with a screen-printed catlike monstrosity on it, and Logan, as far as Virgil had seen, didn’t even seem to overly notice.   
He eventually threw on one of his black shirts with his purple jacket, telling himself he would just have to drink more water to compensate for the extra warmth. Satisfied that he didn’t look like a corpse in a trash heap, he sat himself on the couch, refusing to admit even to himself that he was just the slightest bit nervous.  
“Can I talk to you guys about something before I go pick up Virgil?” Logan asked Patton and Roman, who were lounging on Roman’s couch. They spent much of their time there lately - Logan had all but moved in, the apartment being much cozier than his tiny dorm.   
They looked away from the television towards Logan, and Roman reached towards him, wrapping his arms around his upper thighs and looking up at him, his chin resting on his lower stomach.   
“Of course, lovely.”   
“Yeah, what’s up, Lo Lo?” Patton asked.   
Logan stuttered for a moment, looking down at Roman, who smiled innocently up at him, seemingly oblivious to how flustered he was.   
“Well, I…” He cleared his throat. “One of my classes this semester, though it has nothing to do with my major or minor, is Gender Studies. And… um… there’s this one person in class, Joan, who I have befriended, and they… uh…” He shifted, twisting his hands together in his nervousness.   
This shouldn’t be as hard as it was.   
They would love him no matter what. He knew that.   
“They’re nonbinary, and when I asked them to explain it to me, I realized that I… well… that I relate to their experience. I was just wondering if it would be alright for you to use they/them pronouns for me.”  
They knew the blush on their cheeks had spread to cover their ears as well - they could see it on Patton and Roman’s faces - but they ignored it. They were more concerned with what Roman and Patton would say.  
“Of course, Lo Lo!” Patton chimed, grinning.   
Roman nodded. “Is there a different name you want to go by, or is Logan still good, my lovely little enby?”  
“No, uh, Logan is still very much me. Thank you for being so understanding.”  
“Well, why wouldn’t we be?” Patton cocked his head slightly to the side. “We love you no matter what, right, Roman?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“You could say you’re trans, or bi, or pan, or ace… anything, and we would still love you.”  
Roman paused, turning to Patton as he let go of Logan’s legs. They resisted the urge to pout at the loss of contact. “Uh… speaking of ace…” He grinned nervously, halfway towards a grimace.   
“Oh!”  
“You’re asexual, Roman?” Logan asked, their brows pulling together. Roman had seemed so open with his body and so loving towards theirs and Patton’s.  
“Yeah, well… not sex-repulsed asexual, but… yes. Is that… okay? Sorry to steal your coming-out thunder, Logan.”  
“No worries. I didn’t want the attention on me very long anyways. Of course it’s okay that you’re asexual. Like Patton said, we love you no matter what. Patton, are you okay?”  
They both turned towards Patton, whose lower lip was sticking out slightly, his eyes teary. Despite this, he was somehow grinning. “You guys are so trusting. I just… ack! I’m sorry.” He blushed, ducking his head.   
“You’re such a sap, Pat,” Roman chuckled, snorting and rolling his eyes.   
Logan pulled up outside the apartment building Virgil lived in and took a deep breath. This was not a date. Virgil had reminded them of that multiple times. They opened the door and headed upstairs, knocking at Virgil’s door hesitantly. They all had decided that it would be easier for Virgil to get to know them - and less anxiety-inducing - if they did it individually. Logan had volunteered to go first, knowing that Patton’s exciteability and Roman’s lovingness could be overwhelming at first.  
When they had gotten dressed for their non-date, they smiled in the mirror, their fingers brushing against the nearly white makeup underneath their eyes, covering the dark eye circles haphazardly. Virgil was going out of his way to cover what he viewed as his imperfection. He was putting more effort than normal into his appearance.  
So they shouldn’t have been surprised when Virgil’s door opened and he looked so much nicer than normal. Yes, he had been absolutely stunning the one time they had seen him, he was so much more so.   
He shifted uncomfortably after a second, shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling the jacket closed around himself, and Logan realized they had been staring. They cleared their throat and stepped to the side.   
“Are you ready to go, Virgil?”  
He nodded, taking keys out of his pocket and stepped out of his apartment, locking the door behind him.   
Logan decided on the library. It was quiet, and Virgil seemed comfortable around the books. He sat in silence for a while, eyes skimming over the book in front of him, and Logan read their own, occasionally looking up at him, opening their mouth to say something and then thinking better of it.   
“Why did you decide to go for pre-law?” Virgil asked eventually, his voice cracking and trembling in the slightest. He didn’t look up from his book, instead turning the page.   
“The courtroom fascinates me,” they replied simply, closing their book and focusing his attention on Virgil. “I’m more interested in astronomy, though. I’m minoring in it.”  
“I know.”  
Of course he knew that. He had been reading their writings for who knows how long.   
“Right. Well, I’m more interested in that. The pre-law is simply a bonus. Perhaps I’ll go back and get a degree in astronomy.”  
“You’ve got big dreams, dude.”  
“Ah…” Logan winced, forgetting that they had to come out to Virgil as well, even though the name wasn’t inherently masculine. “I’m actually, uh, I’m actually nonbinary.”  
He glanced up from his book then, looking at Logan through his eyelashes in a move that would’ve made their knees weak if they had been standing.   
Fuck.  
Why was he so attractive?  
It wasn’t fair.  
“Right on.”  
Virgil shrugged and went back to his book.   
“What about you, Virgil? I know you’re writing a novel. Is that what you intend to do for a career?”  
“I guess. I know it’s not the most practical, but…” He shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for a few years now.”  
“What is your novel about? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”  
He paused, cheeks turning pink. “Uh… fairies. I guess.”  
“Interesting. I recall reading about the fae folk a few years ago. There’s a lot of interesting lore on their kind.”  
“Can I ask you a question?”  
The sudden change of topic shocked them, as did Virgil’s sudden closing of his book and eyes on them, but they nodded.   
“Why were you so quick to buy into this soulmate bullshit? You seem like a smart guy. Shit, sorry. Smart person. Why can’t you tell that it’s so obviously bullshit?”  
“I don’t believe that it is, Virgil. There is a lot of science on it, honestly. Entire fields of science based on comprehending the pull of soulmates. Besides, even without the science to back it up, I know that it’s real. Our writing appears on your skin, and yours on ours. And I’m not entirely sure whether you feel it or not, but there is a certain… at-home feeling, as Patton and Roman put it, when two soulmates are together. I feel it when I’m with Patton and Roman, and I feel it here with you. Soulmates aren’t inherently romantic, as we stated the other day. Sometimes it’s just two - or more - people who are meant to be close to one another.”  
Virgil shrugged once more, not quite meeting Logan’s eyes. “I feel it, too. I fucking hate it, but I feel it.”


	17. Chapter 17

Logan’s shoulders slumped, disappointment unmistakable as it flitted across their face. Their brows pulled together, their jaw falling slack. They opened their mouth to speak before closing it a few times.   
Virgil hated that look.  
The look that told him he had said something wrong.  
He wanted to disappear.  
He wanted to get up and run.   
This was a stupid idea anyways.   
Why was he so stupid to think this was even close to a good idea?  
Let’s get to know my soulmates, Virgil. Great idea! What’s the worst that could happen?  
Stupid!  
He reopened his book, feeling the words he had said in his mouth like broken glass.   
I fucking hate it, but I feel it.  
What was he thinking?   
Yes, he hated the fact that he felt at home with them. He hated the fact that just being in their general vicinity brought him more peace than anything in the world. More peace than talking to Dr Picani or to his grandma, even, and they had magic in their voices, apparently. So yeah, Virgil hated the face that he felt it, but at the same time, there was no need to say that. There was no need to let them know that he felt it, and there was no need to be cruel about it.   
“May I ask why?” Logan asked after a minute, their voice cracking slightly. Virgil refused to look up, refused to look to see if there were tears in their eyes.   
He had a feeling there were.  
“Why I hate it?”  
His voice sounded small in his ears, echoing inside his brain.   
“Yes.”  
Hell, he didn’t know. And even if he did… even if he did know that he hated it because he wasn’t used to the warm feeling that spread over him when any of them smiled at him. He was afraid that he was going to ruin them and dismantle the happiness they had built up for themselves. He was only going to be a burden if he tried to get close to him. Even if he did know that, he wasn’t going to admit it.  
Not here. Not now.   
Probably not ever.  
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you?”  
“When I first found out I had two soulmates - before we knew about you, of course - I’ll admit, I hated the idea of it all. It seemed too good to be true, you know? I didn’t understand how anybody could be destined to be with someone like that. My only experience with soulmates was my moms, and whereas they love each other very much and their relationship with each other is healthy, they, as people, are toxic.”  
Virgil glanced up at them, half-wondering why they were opening up to him. They didn’t know him. He was a stranger to all of them. And yet there they were, telling him their life story.  
“As I got to know Patton and Roman, though, I realized that I couldn’t base my opinions of soulmates on one bad experience. Everybody is different, Virgil. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think I understand now why you were so hesitant about us, but I sincerely hope as you get to know us as people, you’ll be more open.”  
“You don’t… you don’t know why I was so hesitant. You don’t know anything about me, Logan. None of you do.”  
They paused for a moment, tilting their head to the side, and they looked like they were about to say something, but thought better of it. They shrugged. “Tell me, then.”  
Virgil flinched back at their words, his eyes widening in shock as if he had been hit. His jaw fell slack. “I… what?”  
“You say we don’t know anything about you, but you won’t tell us anything about you. It took you so long just to say anything to us, and even longer to tell us your name. You can’t put all the blame on us, Virgil. You have to be willing to put in some effort.” Despite their words, their voice was soft and gentle, and Virgil wasn’t sure at first whether to feel angry or calmed at their words.  
He decided on anger.  
“I am putting in effort,” he snapped.   
The librarian turned around and shushed him, and he ducked his head, though he didn’t allow himself to sink into his anxiety.   
He hissed out the words now, though they still held the same fire as if he was screaming them at the top of his lungs. “I am putting in effort. You think it’s easy? I told you guys where I lived when I had barely met you! I agreed to this stupid meet up. I got in your car. I’m sitting here, talking to you.”   
“You’ve barely said two words,” Logan mumbled, ignoring the tears that sprung up in their eyes. They refused to cry, indignation flaring in their chest.   
At seeing their tears, though they didn’t fall from their eyes, Virgil felt his own welling in his eyes. He knew he was hurting them, but maybe it was for the best. This whole thing was a bad idea, anyways.  
“I’ve said more to you in the last twenty minutes than I have said to anyone in my life, ever.” Except Dr Picani, obviously, but they didn’t need to know about him. They didn’t need to know that Virgil was as deeply flawed as he was. “I don’t talk, Logan. I don’t talk, and I don’t make friends. I don’t know why I agreed to this stupid…” He got to his feet, grabbing his satchel, “non-date anyways.”   
Virgil stormed out of the library, letting the library slam behind him, and Logan could feel eyes on them. People were looking at them, but they were too far gone to care at that point. They cradled their head in their hands and with one body-shaking sob, they let their tears fall.  
Patton found them an hour later, slowly walking up to them and resting a hand on their shoulder. They hadn’t stopped crying, though they had definitely calmed down, the tears streaking down their cheaks in silence as they flipped through the book Virgil had left behind.   
“How did you know to come?” they mumbled when they felt Patton’s hand on their shoulder and saw him out of the corner of their eye.   
“Your eyes get puffy when you cry,” he whispered.   
Logan turned to him then, and they let out a small gasp when they saw that Patton’s beautiful blue eyes were ringed with red, small red streaks running down his face. They had done that to him.   
Patton looked down at them, and reached out to them, cradling their face in his hands and swiping the tears away with his thumbs. Logan collapsed into his touch, doing their best to hold in their tears, not wanting to cause even more puffiness in his face, or in Roman’s or Virgil’s.   
“It’s going to be okay, Lo Lo. What happened?” Patton cooed, leaning down slightly to press a kiss to the top of their head.  
“I think I fucked up, Patton.”  
“Language, Lo Lo. And I’m sure you didn’t mess up. Remember, you said Virgil has anxiety, I’m sure he just got anxious.”  
They shook their head. “I made him really mad. He probably hates me now.”  
“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. It would be impossible to hate you. C’mon. Let’s get you home, and Ro and I can help calm you down, okay?”  
Logan nodded, the corner of their lips twitching upwards slightly in a smile as they stood up. They weren’t so sure everything was going to be fine, but they trusted Patton when he said they were.   
Here’s to hoping, they thought as they let Patton lead them out of the library and back to Roman’s house.


	18. Chapter 18

When you lose a tooth, there’s a period of time where you will continually press your tongue to the hole. You know that it’s harmful, that it will only lead to infection and pain, but you can’t help yourself.  
You have to make sure it’s really missing.   
You don’t feel right without it.  
You don’t feel whole.  
People will yell at you, telling you to leave it along before you make it worse, but you really… can’t help yourself.  
Virgil stared at his arm for hours.  
Tears burned like fire in his eyes and he burrowed himself into his hoodie, only his eyes poking out, and he stared at his arm.  
His stomach was hollow.  
He hadn’t made it very far from the library before collapsing to the ground, smashing his knees against the sidewalk and emptying the contents of his stomach into the grass.   
He managed to pull himself up from the ground, ignoring the burn in his knees that told him he had most likely skinned them, and he dragged himself back home.   
Getting to the couch was impossible, however. A pipe dream. So he settled with curling up on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest and his back to the closed door.   
And he stared at his arm.  
He clenched his fists hard enough that his nails dug harshly into his palms.  
He knew it was going to leave marks, but he didn’t care.  
If they didn’t hate him entirely by now, maybe they would try to understand why there were marks.   
Marks.  
Fuck.  
Virgil moved his arm aside and looked down at his knee, hooking his fingers into the torn fabric and pulling it aside slightly to get a look at his skin. He winced, hissing in pain, as the skinned knee was exposed to the air, and quietly pulled himself to his feet. He trudged his way to the bathroom and dug out his first aid kit, cleaning and patching himself up, before simply seating himself on the bathroom floor.  
The living room was so far away.  
And the bathroom floor was cool.  
And he stared at his arm.  
He had fucked up.   
He knew he’d fucked up.  
He had blown up at Logan, and they had only been being honest. There was nothing untruthful about what they had said… Virgil just hadn’t wanted to hear it.  
It was his fault that they were crying.  
It was his fault for the lack of writing on his arms.  
It was his fault that they hated him now. He knew it. He knew they all hated him. Logan had probably told Patton and Roman what he’d said by now, and they would never forgive him. That was why they weren’t writing.   
He didn’t know how much time passed on that bathroom floor, but eventually, he was able to stand up, his legs aching as he did so, and he dug his pen out from his bag, scritching on his arm the two words he had a feeling they were waiting for.   
“I’m sorry.”  
And he was.   
He was sorry he had made Logan cry.  
He was sorry he had yelled at them over something they were right about.  
Logan replied only a few minutes later.   
“It’s okay.”  
Virgil felt relief flooding into his body, and he chewed his lip.   
“Can we come over?”  
“No.” He sat in contemplative silence for a long time before following his response with, “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”  
Logan was right. Of course they were. If Virgil was going to give this soulmate thing a chance - even only platonically - he had to put in some more effort. It was going to hurt like a bitch, and he knew already that chances were, he was going to have another panic attack before the day was over, but he had to try.  
An address appeared a moment later, and Virgil pulled his sleeve back down over his arm and left his apartment.   
He arrived at the building the address had led him to a while later, it being several miles away and he was walking, and he simply looked at it for a moment, steeling himself, before entering the building. He found the apartment easily enough, and as he knocked on the door, he felt panic already fluttering in his stomach.  
What if they wanted to yell at him?  
What if they were going to tell him that they wanted nothing to do with him anymore?  
He took a deep breath, reminding himself that if anything went badly, he could leave.   
That was why he hadn’t let them come to his house.  
He needed an escape route. Not that he would tell them that.   
The door opened, and Roman was standing there, a small, nervous smile on his face. Virgil glanced up at him before ducking his head, hating the fluttering in his stomach that he knew this time wasn’t caused by panic.  
Virgil entered the apartment and he was immediately awestruck. It was so much bigger than his. He didn’t even know apartments came this big. He had just assumed that they were all like the little rinky one he lived in.   
“Who lives here?” he asked absently, looking around. Roman must have seen the awe in his face because he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.  
“I, uh… I do. Well, Logan and I. And if Patton would stop being so bullheaded, he would live here, too.” He glanced over at Patton, who sat on the couch with Logan, his arm around them.   
Patton turned his head towards Roman, and he rolled his eyes, smiling. “I’ve told you, Ro, I can’t afford to help with the rent, and I don’t want to be freeloading.”  
Roman looked over to Virgil for a second, who very obviously felt out of place. “We can talk about this later. All I’ll say for now is that I don’t even pay the rent, Pat. My dad does. Now,” he smiled largely at Virgil, who paused, his eyes widening slightly at the attention, “Hi.”  
“Hi…” Virgil shoved his hands as deep into his pockets as he could manage, bunching his shoulders up as he tried to curl in on himself. His eyes flickered from Roman to Patton to Logan and back, and he tried to ignore the urge to turn and run.   
It was fine.  
They didn’t seem mad.  
None of them did.  
“Come, have a seat.”   
Virgil hesitated for only a moment before moving forward and taking a seat on the farest edge of the couch. He slipped off his shoes and tucked his feet up underneath himself, curling up slightly with his back against the arm of the couch. He wanted to take up as little space as physically possible.   
Roman went to take a seat between Logan and Virgil, and when Virgil tensed up, Logan shook their head before nodding towards the armchair beside the couch. Roman’s brows pulled together, and he looked down at Logan. A silent exchange occured between them that reminded Virgil just how very outside he was from their group before Roman took a seat instead in the armchair beside the couch.   
“Are you okay, Virgil?” Patton asked after a moment.   
Virgil glanced down to see that Patton’s knee, underneath his shorts, had red jagged scrapes on it from where Virgil had fallen. He nodded.  
“Sorry, uh… sorry for leaving marks on you guys…”   
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. It wasn’t your fault. Heaven knows I leave you all more than my fair share of marks.”  
Patton’s smile was the warmest Virgil had ever seen. Something about the way his eyes - impossibly blue - crinkled up when he grinned made Virgil feel instantly calmer. He could feel his panic ebbing away until it was a tiny, insignificant thing.   
He focused on Patton’s smile for the longest time before his gaze flickered to Roman, who seemed to be trying to figure out what to say, and to Logan, who simply stared at their lap, fiddling their thumbs.   
“I’m sorry, Logan,” he said eventually, making them look up.  
“You don’t have to apologize, Virgil. We didn’t want to see you to make you apologize a bunch of times.”  
“Why did you… want to see me?”  
“Roman had some things he wanted to say to you after I told him of what happened at the library.”  
Virgil’s face fell as panic flooded him. His heart stopped beating and his lungs stopped working, burning in his chest as he turned to Roman.  
“It’s nothing bad,” Patton rushed to say, putting his hands up in Roman’s defense, and Virgil turned quickly to him. “I promise it’s nothing bad.”  
“No, it’s…” Roman sighed. “It’s not bad, Virgil. I just need to understand, I guess, why you got so angry with Logan. From what they told me, they were just trying to get you to talk more about yourself.”  
Virgil was silent for another moment before letting out a sigh of his own and directing his gaze to the center of the room.  
Away from all of them.  
He thought over his words very carefully, twisting the fabric of his hoodie between his fingers, before eventually speaking.  
“It’s not so much that they were trying to get me to talk more about myself. I guess it’s more that… that they accused me of not putting in any effort. I know you three don’t know this about me - because how could you? - but I don’t talk much. I never have. My gran used to try to get me to open up and make friends, and I just... “ He shrugged. “Couldn’t.”  
“You said…” Logan spoke up, “well, you said you were in fact putting in effort. Is that true?”  
Virgil nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I told you about my writing, Lo. I don’t even tell my gran about that. Like, she knows I write, but she doesn’t know anything about it. I don’t let her know anything about it. And all of you… I wrote part of my book on my arm - even though it was only one or two really crappy sentences - knowing that you would see it. Just because I don’t open up the same way you three do… doesn’t mean I’m not trying. I am… trying.”


	19. Chapter 19

By the time Virgil left Roman’s apartment, the four of them had come to a better agreement of what to do in order to get to know Virgil better. He still hadn’t given them his phone number, telling them that he preferred writing to them, but he seemed much more open and willing to talk to them by the time he left.   
Roman drove him home.   
He filled the silence with ramblings about his art class and the upcoming auditions for the musical the local community theater was putting on.  
“How do you have time to do all of this?” Virgil asked eventually when Roman stopped to breathe.  
He shrugged dramatically, glancing towards Virgil for half a second before redirecting his eyes to the road. “It’s not as bad as you think.”  
“Really? Because it sounds to me like you’ve got…” he paused, counting in his head, “five pretty big things going on in your life all at once. You’ve got school, Logan, Patton, dance, and then this musical thing.”  
“And you. Even though you aren’t as big a part of my life yet as the other two, you’re still there. Besides, I don’t mind my time being spent with you guys, or with things that will only better myself.”  
“When do you have time to sleep, though?”  
“I don’t.... Lately.” He shrugged again, though this time it was much less dramatic, and he smiled slightly.   
In the last month or so, Roman hadn’t slept very much at all, to be honest. He was up most nights, painting or studying or practicing his dance moves. Anything to distract him from the crushing homesickness that had crashed down on him shortly after he came to Columbus and hadn’t let up since.   
He loved Patton and Logan, yes, and he loved spending time with them, and he was sure he would grow to love Virgil as well - he could tell already that he was headed down that road, even though Virgil had been increasingly adamantly against any romance with them. But the at-home feeling that he got with his soulmates wasn’t the same as actually being at home.  
As much as he hated to admit it, Roman missed his family. He missed his father, who spent a majority of his time at work anyways. He missed his mother, who was always so distant, deflecting as much of her parental duties onto one of his nannies. And he missed his brother, the impulsive asshole.   
“As cliche as it sounds, counting sheep helps.” Roman glanced towards Virgil, his eyebrows quirking upwards for a fraction of a moment in a silent question. “I’ve had insomnia since I was seven. My parents, uh, I was in a car crash, and haven’t really slept well since.”  
Roman paused, stopping the car at a red light, and turned to him. Virgil squirmed under the attention, and he turned towards the door, looking out the window. “I’m sorry to hear that, Virgil.”  
He nodded, and he sat in silence for the rest of the car ride. When they got to Virgil’s apartment building, Roman parked the car and cleared his throat.   
“Just, um, just so you know, after you get more comfortable with us, you’re more than welcome to stay at my place, too. I have a second room where I keep my paints and stuff, but I can move those.” He saw panic flicker into life on Virgil’s face, and he quickly backtracked. “There’s no pressure or rush, though. It’s an open invitation with no experation. I just want to be able to help you however I can.”  
Especially after he saw the way Virgil was currently living, but he knew better than to say that.  
Virgil gave a small smile, the most emotion Roman had seen on him since meeting him that wasn’t panic, and he nodded. “Thank you, Ro.”   
He opened the car door and with the smallest of waves, he was gone.   
When Roman got home, Patton and Logan were curled up on the couch once more. Logan was leaning against Patton, their legs tucked up underneath themself and their eyes fixated on the t.v. screen at the movie.   
“What are we watching?” Roman asked as he kicked off his shoes and moved over to the couch.   
Patton sat up a little bit, patting the space behind him, and Roman wormed his way underneath him, wrapping his arms around Patton’s waist and pulling him back down to lay against him. By the time they were all settled, they were more or less in a cuddle-train, with Roman at the back with his back against the arm of the couch, Patton’s back against his chest, and Logan at the front, their head laying back against Patton’s chest while they adjusted so they were stretched out along the rest of the couch.   
Roman combed his fingers idly through Patton’s hair, his other hand reaching forward and brushing with a feather-like touch up and down Logan’s arm. He heard the quiet squeak of surprise that came from Patton at the fingers in his hair, and he pressed a kiss to the back of his head, biting back a chuckle.  
“Did Virgil say anything to you while you were in the car?” Patton asked after a moment of comfortable silence.  
Roman hummed in response, his lips pressed against the back of Patton’s head, and he debated telling them about what Virgil had said about the car crash. But he decided that was Virgil’s information to give, and he shook his head.  
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”  
Logan gave a little chuckle. “We don’t know him well enough yet to know his ordinary.”  
“You know what I mean, my lovely.”  
They nodded, and curled up their legs again, turning on their side and shifting so their head was resting in Patton’s lap. They pulled the knitted blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over themself.   
The three of them sat in comfortable silence for another few minutes before Patton sighed, sitting up a little.   
“I should get going before it gets too late. Ro, can you drive me home?”  
Roman whined, wrapping his arms around Patton’s waist. He nuzzled his nose against the side of Patton’s neck. “But Patton, my sweet, you are home.”  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patton’s cheeks turning red, and he bit back another chuckle.   
“I don’t live here, Roman.”  
“You could.” It was Logan who spoke now, looking up at Patton. “I basically do.”  
“Oh, hush, my lovely, you do live here. You just haven’t moved the rest of your stuff in. And you, my sweet, are more than welcome to live here, too. Like I said when Virgil was here, I don’t even pay the rent. My dad does. And my bed is big enough for all three of us - and possibly eventually Virgil.”  
Patton paused, thinking it over, and Roman pressed a sweet, innocent kiss to the side of his jaw.   
“You don’t have to decide right now, Patton. But you could sleep over tonight if you want, and if you decide you want to move in, just say the word and I can help you bring your stuff in.”  
“I can help, too,” Logan mumbled sleepily. “As long as you two help me move my belongings here later this week.”  
“Of course we can help you, Lo Lo.” Patton smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead. “And while we’re getting your stuff, we can go ahead and get mine.”  
Roman gasped softly, his eyes lighting up and a smile spreading across his face. “Really?”  
Patton turned around to him. “Yes, really. I want to live here, Roman, with you and Lo. I love you two.”  
“I’m gonna have my soulmates living with me?” Roman asked in awe, to which Patton laughed, nodding.  
“Two of us anyways. And maybe Virgil, someday.”  
“I wouldn’t get my hopes too high on that one, Patton,” Logan said.  
“You never know, my lovely.” Roman let go of Patton with one arm and touched his fingers lightly to their cheek. “He didn’t completely dismiss the idea when I brought it up on the drive to his place.”  
“You asked him to move in with us?” Logan sat up, turning around to face Roman, confusion on their face.  
“Not directly. I told him that when he gets more comfortable with us, he is welcome to stay with us, even if it’s platonically and I have to find somewhere else for my paints.”  
“And what did he say?”   
“He just said ‘thank you, Ro,’ and got out of the car. But he didn’t turn it down.”  
“I guess for now, then, we just keep our hopes up, and keep getting to know him.” They smiled smally, and Patton reached forward, grabbing ahold of their hand.   
“And for now, we get some sleep. You look tired, Lo Lo. Let’s head to our room, you two.”  
Roman knew that his words - our room - were intentional, that Patton had said them specifically to remind Roman that the three of them lived together. With a smile on his face, Roman led the two of them to the bedroom, knowing that given a million years, he would never get used to this.


	20. Chapter 20

It was moving day.   
Again.  
Patton and Roman decided to get Logan’s belongings first, with him having much less than Patton, and after Patton scribbled on his arm to let Virgil know they would be busy - not ignoring him - they headed to get a U-Haul.  
“Can I help?” Virgil wrote back shortly after.   
Patton looked to Roman, who was driving the U-Haul, and to Logan, who sat on the other side of him, near the window, half asleep. “Virgil wants to know if he can help,” he said after a moment, realizing that neither of them had seen the writing.   
Logan jolted awake, blushing slightly, and nodded. “I don’t have any problem with him helping, but there’s not an extra seat in here… unless you sit on my lap, of course, Patton.”  
Patton’s cheeks flushed red at their words, and Roman laughed. “I just need to know whether or not I’m going to pick up Virgil. I’m good either way.”  
“Let’s go get Virgil, then. You’ll have to scoot over to the middle seat when we get there, Lo Lo, so I can sit on your lap.” Patton grabbed ahold of Logan’s hand, twining his fingers between theirs for a moment before letting go and writing on his arm to let Virgil know they were on their way.   
When they got to Virgil’s apartment building, he was already outside waiting for them on the front stoop. As they pulled up, he got to his feet, wiping the palms of his hands on his pants, and approached the U-Haul. He looked different without his hoodie, his pale arms exposed in the black band tee he wore, but he was somehow even more beautiful.  
Every time they saw him, he was more beautiful than the last.  
With a little bit of shifting, the four of them were able to fit into the front of the U-Haul. Patton sat in Logan’s lap, their arms around his waist to secure him as much as they could, and Virgil sat pressed against the door. However, he was turned towards them rather than towards the door, and he looked out the front window rather than the one at his side.  
He didn’t speak, he didn’t look at them, and he didn’t stop twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers, but it was a start.  
It was progress.  
It was effort.  
Logan’s dorm was nearly empty, with only the small rickety bed provided by the university, a couple boxes of books, two suitcases of clothes, and a duffel bag of blankets and pillows. They had packed their belongings the night before to make today easier, knowing that Patton probably had a lot more stuff than them.   
And they were right.  
After they put Logan’s belongings - minus the bed, because that belonged to the university - they headed over to Patton’s apartment. Patton had packed most of his things, but hadn’t managed to get to all of them. The living room was filled with boxes, neatly packed, but there were clothes and old crayon drawings and dozens of notebooks all scattered over his bedroom. The clutter somehow covered every inch of the room, even the unmade bed, tangled up in the blankets.   
“Fuck, Pat,” Virgil mumbled as he stepped into the room. He laughed, looking around at all the clutter, and when he caught Logan looking at him, he clamped his hand over his mouth, blushing.   
“Language,” Patton said with a sheepish smile. “And it’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.”  
“Why don’t you throw some of this away?” Logan asked, a single brow raising on their forehead. They picked up one of the notebooks and looked to Patton for permission before opening it and looking at the scribbled drawings inside. “Is any of this really necessary to keep around?”  
Patton gasped in shock, putting a hand dramatically to his chest like he was wounded. “These are all necessary. That’s my journal from kindergarten you have there, and then this here is a story I tried writing in middle school that never panned out, and this is a folder with my kindergarten report cards. It’s all important memories.”  
“But it’s… it’s all clutter,” they stuttered out, being careful not to accidentally offend Patton.   
“No worries, you two. We can keep all the notebooks and stuff in the closet in my studio,” Roman said gently, bringing in an empty box and setting it on the bed. “Let’s start packing up. Do you have anything else going on today, Virgil? Patton and Logan have the day off work, but I just want to make sure we’re not keeping you from anything. This could take a while.”  
He shook his head as he scooped up a handful of notebooks and piled them neatly into the box Roman had brought in. “I work freelance. Only thing I have going on today is helping you three.”  
“I’m curious,” Logan started as they and Patton joined in the packing, “what were you going to do today if we weren’t moving today?”  
Virgil glanced towards them, amusement flickering to life on his face. “Do you want the honest answer, starlight?”  
Logan stuttered to a halt at the nickname, their face turning an interesting shade of red. Roman and Patton turned towards Virgil for a fraction of a second, and he shifted uncomfortably at all the attention, moving to grab for the sleeve of his hoodie. When he remembered that it was back home, that he had taken a chance with being so exposed, he cleared his throat.   
“Yes, I want the honest answer.”  
Roman and Patton resumed packing, as did Logan, though they continued to pay attention to Virgil as he spoke. “Nothing much, really. Probably sitting around starting the first round of edits on my novel.”  
“Oh, right! I forgot you were writing a book!” Patton chimed, dumping one more armload of papers into the box and taping it shut as Roman grabbed another box. “What’s it about?   
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Roman interjected.   
“No, no, it’s alright. It’s… uh… it’s about fairies and the dark price of their magic.”   
Virgil talked about his book for a while, rambling animatedly about the plotlines, the characters, the big twists, the setting. Everything.  
He smiled, and he laughed, and he joked, and he didn’t notice just how much he was talking or how comfortable he was, until all of Patton’s belongings were packed up and loaded into the U-Haul.   
The other three encouraged him, asking gentle questions when there was a lull in the conversation, and when they loaded the final box into the U-Haul and climbed into the front seat, Virgil seemed a lot more open with them than before.  
He leaned the back of his head against the window, one knee resting against Patton’s, who had resumed his seat on Logan’s lap, and he watched the three of them in silence.   
Roman had one hand on the wheel, one holding Logan’s, and Logan had their free arm around Patton’s waist, their head resting against Patton’s shoulder. They were whispering something, making Patton’s cheeks flush pink, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile softly as he watched them.  
The warmth and acceptance he felt here with them was nearly overwhelming, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
Virgil wouldn't admit it if he was forced to, but damn, was he falling for these three beautiful miracles.


	21. Chapter 21

When Virgil was dropped off at home at the end of the night, he closed the door behind him and he leaned back against the door. He tilted his head upwards, closing his eyes and grinning for the first time for as long as he could remember. He sank to the floor, hugging himself, and lingered in the warmth that being near them had given him.   
He looked down at his arm as writing appeared; Roman’s writing.  
“Thanks for the help today, stormcloud!” A little heart doodle followed the words, and Patton’s and Logan’s ink appeared as well, each doodling in a small heart.   
Virgil felt his face warming up, and he grinned at the ink, at the nickname, at the hearts, until they blurred through his tears. He lifted himself up off the floor, stumbling slightly as he did so, and he dug around for his pen. As soon as he found it, he looked again at his arm, and he felt a sense of joy flooding back into him. He scritched in a heart on his arm a little ways away from theirs.  
He knew that he was apart from them. Separate entirely. Even if he was willing to admit that he was falling for them, it wouldn’t matter.   
Even though he had felt the warmth and love and acceptance from them today, and even though it made him immensely happy to be welcomed with open arms… it wasn’t the same.  
It wasn’t the same as what they had with each other, and as much as he hated to admit it to himself, that was what he wanted.  
He wanted to join in on their cuddles and inside jokes and love, but he knew that wasn’t likely.   
They already had their set roles in their relationship. He was happy for them, really, and he was happy to be on the outside as long as he could be near them. But that was what he was going to be.   
Outside.   
He had realized that, sitting in the U-Haul with them, watching them interact with each other.   
Human beings only have two hands - on average. Enough to hold two hands. There was no room for a third, and Virgil didn’t want to have to make them make sacrifices for him.  
He knew they would if he asked him to. They wouldn’t even hesitate.   
But he didn’t want them to feel like they had to.   
A month passed without notable event. Virgil spent more time talking to and visiting the others, Roman got a part in the musical - the lead, a prince - and Logan and Patton got into a routine at Roman’s house.   
“Lo Lo, are you almost ready? We have to leave in the next five minutes or I’ll be late for work,” Patton called as he buttoned up his polo and grabbed his cardigan from the hook in the closet.   
Logan was in the bathroom, brushing their teeth and attempting to tame their bedhead before they had to leave for class. The only response Patton got was Roman’s singing, which had taken up much of the silence in the apartment in the last week since he had gotten the part in the musical. It had gotten to the point where Logan and Patton knew the words by heart and would prompt Roman when he stumbled over a line.   
Shrugging on his cardigan, Patton headed towards the bathroom. Seeing that the door was open, he approached the doorway and knocked on the open door, not wanting to startle them. He heard Logan hum in response, and he pushed the door open.   
Logan spat toothpaste in the sink and rinsed their toothbrush before looking at Patton in the mirror and giving a small smile. Patton stepped up behind them and wrapped his arms around their waist, resting his head against the side of their arm.   
“Linda is being rather persistent today,” Logan mumbled as they toyed with their alfalfa sprout of a flyaway that Patton had so lovingly named Linda. On the best of days, she took a handful of mousse or some sturdy hold gel to hold her down, and today was not one of the best of days.   
“I think you look beautiful, even though Linda is being, well, Linda,” Patton mused, pressing a kiss to their shoulder.   
“I’m curious…” they paused, chewing on their lower lip. “I know Roman is going to have to wear makeup on stage for his role. What if I wanted to try it out beforehand? Would… would you be okay with that?”   
“You want to wear makeup, Lo Lo?” They nodded. “Then you go right ahead! I’m sure you’ll look beautiful with it.”  
“You’re okay with it, even though it’ll show up on you, too?”  
Patton nodded, smiling softly as he met Logan’s gaze in the mirror. “And I’m sure Roman will be okay with it, too. You can ask him and Virgil later if you want, after you get home from class. We have to get going, though.”   
Logan nodded, giving up on taming Linda, and turned to Patton. They pressed a kiss to his head and nodded pointedly towards the door. “Let’s head out.”   
The two of them called a goodbye to Roman, who poked his head out of his studio and blew them both a kiss before disappearing again. He had the day off classes and was working on finishing his art class assignment before it was time to go pick up Virgil.  
He stood in his studio, humming the words to the big musical number, staring at the canvas in front of him. This week’s unit was on abstract art, and Roman hadn’t been able to get the hang of it. It all just looked like a bunch of paint squiggles to him.   
With a sigh, he packed up his paints and brought the brushes and palette to the kitchen to rinse them off. And when he was done, he grabbed a pen and wrote quickly on his arm, “You ready, stormcloud?”  
He got a check mark as a response, and Roman chuckled softly.   
He found himself at Virgil’s apartment a short while later, and he stepped out of the car, opening the passenger side door for him. Virgil climbed into the car and as soon as Roman got back in and buckled up, Virgil cleared his throat.   
“Hey Roman?”   
“Yes, Virgil?”   
“Is…” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat again. Roman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to make sure he wasn’t upset. Satisfied that he wasn’t - only nervous - he turned his eyes back to the road. “Is this a date?”  
Well that certainly wasn’t what Roman had thought he was going to say.  
He opened his mouth to respond, his cheeks flushing red, but no words came out for a moment. “Do you want it to be?”  
And Virgil’s answer came out in a breath, as if he was afraid of his own answer. “Yes.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purely self-indulgent prinxiety fluff.

Virgil sat at the table in silence, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie while he waited for Roman to come back with the food. The two of them had decided on lunch first and then going roller skating at the roller den across town.   
This was insane, right?  
The three of them hadn’t shown even a hint of romantic attraction towards Virgil in all the time they had known him.   
They had kept everything strictly platonic.   
What if Roman only agreed to this being a date because he didn’t want to hurt his feelings?  
Virgil’s heart was racing in his chest.  
He could feel the pulse of it in his fingertips.  
In every part of his body.  
This was crazy.  
He shouldn’t have asked him.  
Stupid.  
Stupid.  
Stupid.  
Why did he ask him?  
When Roman turned around and approached their table, setting the tray of food between them, he remembered. The warmth in his smile was enough to set every inch of Virgil on fire, and he ducked to hide his own smile, though there was no hiding the pink that flushed across his cheeks.   
Roman chuckled softly, setting Virgil’s drink in front of him and grabbing his own. “Happy to see the food, are you?”   
“Not the food I’m happy to see, princey,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks darkening.   
He stuttered his response, eventually giving up on getting any legitimate words out and taking a fry from the tray instead.   
The two of them sat in contented silence for a few minutes, eating their food, and eventually, Roman spoke.   
“Can I ask… what made you change your mind about wanting this to be a date?”  
Virgil shrugged. “I’ve wanted it for a while now, I guess. Seeing you guys interact with each other, how much you three love each other. I wanted that.”  
“Well why didn’t you say anything sooner? Pat’s been going crazy trying not to make a move on you.”  
“Wait.” He blinked in shock. “What?”  
Roman laughed, nodding. “Me and him both, honestly. And I think probably Logan, too, but they’re much better at controlling themself than Pat and I are.”  
Virgil stared blankly at him for a long moment before blinking again. “What?”  
“Yeah, like last week when you were about to fall asleep in the armchair and the three of us were all cuddled up on the couch, Pat would’ve called you over to join the cuddles if Logan hadn’t stopped him.”  
“I thought… I thought you guys just weren’t interested in me that way because you kept everything strictly platonic.”  
“We only kept it strictly platonic because you were so insistent at first that no romance be involved. Trust me, Virgil, we’re very interested.”  
Roman reached across the table and hesitated only a moment before grabbing hold of Virgil’s hand. He flinched away from the contact before settling his hand in Roman’s, doing his best to ignore the butterflies that sparked to life in his stomach when Roman’s thumb stroked idly against his knuckles.   
“Question,” Roman said softly after a minute of silence. Virgil looked away from their hands and hummed in response. “Would you like to tell Patton and Logan, or would you prefer me to tell them?”  
“That this was a date?”  
He nodded.  
“I don’t really care either way. You can tell them if you’d like. But there is one thing I want to set straight before you do.” A pause. “I don’t want to date all of you at once. I’m still new even to the friends thing, let alone romance. And I think, uh… I think it’ll be easier if it’s one at a time for now, and then two at a time, then all three.”   
“That’s okay, Virgil. We can do this all as slow or as quick as you want. I can’t speak for the others, but I’m willing to go at whatever pace you set. You’re the boss, applesauce.”  
He snorted at Roman’s words, chuckling, and nodded. “Thank you.”  
For what, though?  
For understanding? For being so kind to him? For being so open?   
For… everything?  
Roman smiled softly - the sight of which flipped Virgil’s stomach upside down and inside out, making his heart skip a beat. “Are you ready to get going?”  
In the car, Virgil sat in contented silence, tapping his fingers on his thigh to the beat of the song playing on the radio. It was one of his personal favorites, Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional, and he was actually surprised when the showtune-loving Roman hadn’t immediately turned it down when he first showed it to him a couple weeks ago.   
Roman sang along to the song openly, tapping one of his hands along to the beat on the steering wheel. His other hand reached towards Virgil, who took it after only a moment’s hesitation, twining their fingers together.   
And he ignored the fluttering in his stomach.  
Roman smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his knuckles when they stopped at a red light.   
And he ignored the fluttering in his stomach.  
He watched Roman fondly, adiring the natural golden highlights in his hair that reflected the sunlight that poured in through his window.   
And he ignored the fluttering in his stomach.  
“And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well. I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself,” Virgil sang softly along towards the end of the song.   
Roman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling that soft smile again.  
And he ignored the fluttering in his stomach.  
“I didn’t know you could sing, stormcloud,” Roman mused gently as the song ended and the next one started up.   
“I can’t.”  
“I call bullshit.”  
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You can call whatever you want.”  
“For real, though, you should sing more. Your voice is beautiful.”  
He blushed at Roman’s words, ducking his head to hide his smile. “Shut up.”  
“You’re not used to praise, are you?”  
Virgil shrugged, and Roman pulled into the parking lot for the roller den, putting the car in park. “Not so much, no. My gran isn’t very verbal with her praise. It’s more… smiles.”  
The two of them unbuckled and got out of the car and it wasn’t until they were inside the roller den and fitted with their skates until Roman spoke up again.  
“Does it make you uncomfortable when I compliment you? Or when Logan or Patton do?”  
Virgil turned to him, and when he saw the colorful lights flickering over Roman, he stuttered out his answer, unable to fully form a sentence. “No… no, uh… ‘m just… y’know… not used to it.”  
He tilted his head to the side, his curls falling over to the other side, and smiled softly, skating a lazy circle around Virgil, seemingly oblivious to his eyes following his every move and to the blush that had spread across Virgil’s cheeks, turning even the tips of his ears red.   
“Do you like when we compliment you? Or are you indifferent to it?”  
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… well, who doesn’t like a compliment?”  
He turned around and skated backwards while facing Virgil, making sure not to skate too fast or too slow so he was still in front of Virgil without being in his way. “So if I were to tell you that you look absolutely stunning with these lights dancing along your skin, that wouldn’t bother you?”  
Virgil stumbled, his skates slipping out from underneath him and Roman grabbed ahold of his hands to help stop him from falling. Roman didn’t say a word about him slipping. Rather, he skated him towards the edge of the rink and smiled. He released Virgil’s hands and wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist, moving slowly to give him time to stop him or pull away if he so chose.   
“No, uh… no that wouldn’t bother me at all.” His words were soft, barely audible over the music.   
He rested his hands against Roman’s chest, though he made no move to push him away. He stared at his hands, at the fabric of Roman’s shirt as he fidgeted with it. Gentle fingers cupped under his chin and Virgil looked up, meeting Roman’s eyes.  
And he couldn’t ignore the fluttering in his stomach.   
“And if I were to tell you--”  
“Just shut up and kiss me,” he interuppted in a breath.  
Roman’s lips quirked upwards in a small smile before he leaned forward. His fingers slid to the back of Virgil’s neck, tangling up into his hair, and his lips pressed against his in a fiery electricity that brought Virgil’s every sense to life.   
And Virgil’s heart soared.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien is Deceit

As Logan walked out of their classroom, they pulled their phone from their pocket, checking the messages they had gotten. They had one from Roman, two from their brother, Damien, and two from Patton.  
They checked the ones from Damien first, wanting to get that out of the way. The first one was a picture of a literal stick in a mud-puddle captioned “you”. The second, though, was a text telling them to call when they had a minute.   
With a sigh, they stepped outside of the building and made their way to their car. Once inside, they pressed the call button and waited for Damien to pick up. Which he did on the fourth ring.  
“Hello?”  
“You wanted me to call, Dee?”  
“Yeah, I…” He laughed shortly, almost as if he was laughing at himself. “I need your advice. As much as I hate to admit it, you do know something about this whole soulmate business, and I’m lost.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I have been speaking with my soulmate for who knows how long, and I don’t know how to further things along.”  
“Further things along as in… get a date with them? Meet them in person? Find out their name? I’m going to need some more information, Damien.” They sighed heavily, leaning back in their seat.  
“Anything. They don’t really tell me much about their personal life. All I know is that they’re impulsive, they like drawing dicks and mustaches, and their favorite animal is an octopus.”  
“Have you tried asking them specific questions?”   
There was silence on the other line, and Logan resisted the urge to laugh. “... Yes…” Damien lied very obviously.  
“Try asking them stuff, Dee. You won’t get to know anything about them if you don’t. Start with asking their name, maybe, and go from there. Ask where they’re from, that kind of stuff.”  
“Right, right.” There was another pause in which they assumed he was writing on his arm. “How are things going with your soulmates, by the way? Didn’t you have two?”  
“Three, actually. Our fourth, Virgil, made himself known about two months ago. Do you really care about my soulmates?”  
“No,” he replied sarcastically, and Logan could almost hear the eyeroll in his voice. “I asked just so I could hear myself talk.”  
“Well, Roman and Patton and I are dating and living together… and Virgil is… starting to open up to us. He’s incredibly stubborn, though. Reminds me of you in that respect.”  
“When have I ever been stubborn?”  
“When you forced mom, momma, and I to act out a courtroom scene with you to find out whether or not your snake was a good or bad person.”  
“Hey, Foley bit me. I needed to find out if he was guilty or not.”  
“Dee, he’s not a person. He’s a snake.”  
“Bold of you to invalidate Foley’s humanity, but fine. I needed to see whether or not he was a good snake.”  
“You forced us to set up a courtroom.”  
“I was young!”  
“This was a week before I left.”  
“... fair enough. They wrote back, by the way. Their name is Remus.”  
Logan paused, blinking in shock as they recalled Roman mentioning once or twice that he had a brother by the same name. Sure, it wasn’t so common a name that it was likely it was someone else, but it was possible.  
“What’s his last name?”  
“Hang on.” He paused again. “Montague, looks like. He has the worst handwriting on the planet, though, so for all I know, this could say Money.”  
“Damien… your soulmate is Roman’s brother.”  
“Your Roman?”  
“The one and only.”  
He snorted in laughter. “What are the chances of that?”  
“I’ve learned not to question probability when it comes to soulmates. I have three soulmates, one of whom goes to the same college as me, and the other two live in the same town as us.”  
“Would you say the chances are…” He paused, and it was in that pause that Logan regretted their entire existence. “Infinitesimal?”  
They pinched the bridge of their nose between their thumb and forefinger, pushing their glasses up in the process, and let out a groaning sigh. “When are you going to let that go?”  
“You’re the one who used the wrong word, braniac.”  
“I was twelve. Please, for the love of all things jelly, let it go.”  
Damien chuckled and another moment of silence passed between the two. Logan chewed the inside of their lip as they realized just how far from home they were.   
“What time is it there?” Damien asked after a long second.  
Logan checked the time on their phone. “About four-thirty. You?”  
“Two-thirty. Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”  
“I don’t think so, Dee. You know how moms are.”  
“I know.”  
“Hey, maybe you can come up this way. You’ll be eighteen by then, and you won’t have school. Book a flight so you don’t have to drive for three days.”  
“Yeah, maybe. Hey, I gotta get going. Talk to you later, nerd.”  
“Talk to you later.”   
The line clicked and Logan let out a sigh as they pulled the phone away from their ear. It had been too long since they had talked to anyone in their family, and as much as they hated to admit it, they missed the little shit.   
They sat in contemplative silence for a moment longer before clicking on the group chat to see the message from Roman.   
“Virgil and I are on a date. Yes, a date. A romantic date. I’ll tell you two more later, turning off my phone. Love you!”  
Logan gaped at the text, their jaw slack. Virgil and Roman were on a date. Had Roman made a move on him after Logan telling him countless times not to? Had he made Virgil feel pressured to say yes?   
No… that didn’t seem plausible. Roman was the gentlest, most understanding person they had ever met.   
Perhaps Virgil was the one who initiated things. Perhaps after two months of talking with them, he had decided to give things a chance.   
It seemed unlikely, but it was much more likely than Roman pressuring him.  
With their head in the clouds, Logan opened the texts from Patton.  
“Just wanted to say I love you and I hope your class is going great, Lo Lo!”  
“Have you seen the message from Ro yet???”  
They smiled softly, typing a quick response. “I love you too, dear heart. I just saw the text from Ro, yes. Do you think Roman asked for it to be a date, or Virgil?”  
They started the car and headed home, checking their phone for Patton’s response at a red light. When they got home, they hesitated upon seeing Roman’s car in the driveway. They didn’t want to intrude on their date, but they didn’t have anywhere else to go for the time being.  
They pulled a pen from their bag and wrote in small letters on the back of their hand, “Can I come in?” to which they received a purple check mark.   
Virgil and Roman were in Roman’s studio with the door open. Logan entered the house and made their way towards the studio, leaning in the doorway silently to watch the two of them.  
Virgil was smiling softly, watching Roman with love in his eyes as he chewed on his lip. And Roman was trying to tune his guitar that Logan had seen him play maybe once or twice since getting it two months ago. Virgil looked up when Logan leaned in the doorway and though he blushed slightly, he waved a small hello.   
“Do you mind if I…” They took a step forward before pausing, their eyes flickering from Virgil to Roman and back, unsure if either of them was going to stop them or not.  
They didn’t.  
Roman grinned, nodding his head. “Come on in, my lovely. If… you don’t mind, Virgil.”  
He shook his head to show that he didn’t mind, and Logan entered the room more fully. They had only been in Roman’s studio a handful of times, finding it much too messy for their own liking. But being in here with the two of them, seeing the love that was poured into every inch of every surface, they couldn’t help but smile.   
“I take it Roman texted you?” Virgil asked after a moment more of watching Roman try to tune his guitar.   
“Yes. He texted Patton and I to tell us you two were on a date. Nothing much beyond that, however.”  
“I guess I’d better tell you, then. I have limits… boundaries… I, uh… I don’t want to date all three of you at once. One at a time, and ease into it. Okay? There might be times where I want to join in on the group cuddle thing you three do, but I don’t want to jump into everything headfirst. Okay?”  
They nodded, and Virgil smiled softly once more.   
“Now that I’ve got that out of the way… can I… y’know…” He held out his hand, his eyes pleading as he silently asked if they would hold his hand.   
They stepped forward and took his hand in theirs, twining their fingers together. Virgil pulled them a little closer so they were standing beside him, and he leaned his head against Logan’s arm, his eyes on Roman, who was very clearly trying to hide a smile. And with a dark blush spreading across their cheeks, Logan pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the top of Virgil’s head, ignoring the fluttering in their stomach when Virgil let out a soft, squeaking noise of surprise.


	24. Chapter 24

Virgil was exhausted - both physically and socially - by the time came for Patton to get off work, so he went with Roman to pick him up.   
He sat in the back seat of the car, head leaned against the window, as he tried to ignore the migraine that was slowly building in his head. The vibrating of the window did nothing to help it, but there was nowhere else to lay his head, and that was something he very much needed to do.  
Today had been fun. His date with Roman had left every part of him warm and yearning for more. And when Logan got home, the three of them simply hung out for hours, talking about everything. The idle touches of Logan’s hand on his or Roman occasionally reaching over to brush his bangs behind his ear - which he never argued with, but was always quick to correct - had been pure bliss. And he was sure it would have been even more so with Patton there, but it was all a bit much. There was no doubt in his mind that he was definitely going to have to ease into everything.  
He watched Roman with love in his eyes as he sang along softly to the showtune pouring from the speakers. If he didn’t know any better, Virgil would think there was a trace of anxiety on his face, as if he was trying to memorize the song and was afraid he was going to slip up.  
It must be a song from the musical he was starring in.  
That made sense.  
He found himself drifting off to sleep, his legs curling up underneath himself, the world fading from existence.  
He woke up when the back door opened and he looked groggily up at Patton, who smiled shyly.  
“Can I sit back here, or would you prefer I sit up front?”  
Virgil hummed a response, still barely awake, and patted the seat beside him. Patton’s smile grew to a grin and he climbed into the back seat of the car. He leaned forward to press a kiss of hello to Roman’s cheek before sitting back down and buckling up.   
Virgil laid his head against the window once more, closing his eyes, though he didn’t fall back asleep.  
“How was work, pattycake?” he mumbled sleepily, smiling softly at the noise of surprise Patton made at the nickname.   
If he had known it would be so easy to fluster the three of them, only taking a crappy nickname, he would have started using them a long time ago. Though he couldn’t just them too much. He had practically turned red as a fire engine at Roman’s nickname for him earlier.   
“Good. I’m more interested to know how your date went, though.”  
He opened his eyes and glanced towards the rearview mirror, meeting Roman’s eyes there for a moment, before chuckling. “Good.” His eyes drifted shut once more, and he hugged his hoodie around himself. “Did either Roman or Logan text you to fill you in on the situation?”  
God, he hoped they had. He didn’t want to have to explain it for a third time.  
“Yeah, I texted him, Virgil,” Roman piped up, and Virgil breathed a small sigh of relief.   
“I do have one question about it, though,” Patton said after a moment, his voice hesitant.   
Virgil opened a single eye and looked towards him through his bangs to make sure everything was okay.   
“Where, specifically, do your boundaries lie? Like… am I allowed to hold your hand?”  
With a small smile, Virgil reached across the space between them and took Patton’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. “Always.”  
“Am I allowed to kiss you?”   
Virgil’s blush spread across Patton’s face like wildfire, spreading up to cover even his ears and ducking down below the collar of his shirt. His gaze flickered down to Patton’s lips for an instant before he nodded, a very slight movement that he wasn’t sure Patton saw.   
Until he leaned in.  
The hand that wasn’t holding Virgil’s rested low on his thigh and he paused, his lips an inch from Virgil’s, giving him time to pull away.   
He didn’t.  
He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Patton’s. Kissing him was different from kissing Roman, in that he was gentle and hesitant. Roman had been sure of himself, leading Virgil with assurity towards cloud nine.   
Patton, however, was much less sure. He squeaked in surprise - even though he had been the one to initiate the kiss - and he paused several times before lifting his hand to Virgil’s cheek, cupping his jaw with gentle fingers. When they broke apart, Virgil wasn’t sure anymore whether the blush belonged to him or Patton.   
Probably both.  
After a moment of flustered, love-filled silence, Roman cleared his throat with a soft smile on his lips. “Pat, my sweet, I’m gonna drop you off at the house before I take Virgil home, okay?”  
A silent exchange passed between the two of them that Virgil had no hopes of deciphering, and Patton nodded.   
Roman pulled up outside of the apartment building the three of them lived in, and Patton hesitated only a second before pressing another quick kiss to Virgil’s lips and getting out of the house. Once he was safely inside the building, Roman turned around, looking to Virgil.   
“Want to come sit up front, stormcloud? Just wanted to catch another moment alone with you since our date ended a little short with Logan coming home.”  
He nodded, getting out of the car and coming around to the front seat. After he was in and buckled, Roman started back on the road.   
A few minutes passed before Virgil reached over, holding out his hand for Roman’s. He smirked softly with a chuckle, glancing towards Virgil for a second, and took his hand.   
In that second, where his eyes were away from the road, everything went wrong.   
Everything crashed together.  
Everything went black.  
Everything stopped.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't make you guys suffer in suspense another 9 hours like I'm making the tumblr fans suffer. They got the heads up about the angst, you guys get the chapter first. You're welcome!
> 
> Also, do yourselves a favor and look back at Chapter 5 before you read this chapter. Tis important parallels.

The first thing that Virgil noticed was the noise.  
Roman’s yelling and the pained noise that came from his own mouth as Roman’s arm slammed against his chest, pinning him to the seat.  
The honking of the horn that he knew would echo in his ears for years to come.  
The crushing of the glass - was it their windows or the other car’s?  
What came next was the sunlight that poured in through the broken window.  
It was ironic.  
The sunlight.  
It was supposed to be a happy thing, something kids drew with a smile above a beautiful scene.  
Virgil didn’t like sunny days.  
Sunny days brought heat and pain and death.  
“Roman,” he rasped out, pushing at the deflated airbag with all his strength and reaching for the man who he hadn’t heard from since the start of the crash.  
He didn’t say anything.  
“Ro, please.”  
He knew better than to turn his head. If he had gotten hurt in the crash, turning his head would only make things worse.  
So much worse.  
“Ro!” He grasped at Roman’s arm, trying to get his attention.  
Virgil caught sight of himself in the reflection on the window, and nausea overwhelmed him. He wasn’t sure if the bruises and red splotches on his face and neck were his or Roman’s.  
God, he hoped they were his.  
He hoped they weren’t Roman’s.  
Why wouldn’t he answer him?  
Please be okay.  
Please.  
Please.  
“Roman, please,” he sobbed, his face aching as it screwed up and tears poured down his cheeks.  
Sirens.  
There were sirens.  
Where were the sirens coming from?  
He couldn’t think. His mind was empty aside from Roman.  
Think, Virgil. Think!  
His door was opened first, and the seat belt around him was cut, releasing him. Gentle hands grasped at him, and his first instinct was to panic, adrenaline flooding into his body.  
He pushed at the hands, finally turning his head against his better judgement and ignoring the stabbing pain that shot through his neck when he did so.  
Roman was a wreck.  
The blood was his.  
The paramedic withdrew him from the car carefully but firmly. Their voice was muffled in his ears, blocked out by the terrible ringing.  
His throat burned as he fought against the paramedic’s arms, trying to get back to the car.  
To get back to Roman.  
He couldn’t be screaming.  
There was no way.  
There was no sound coming out.  
But why did it burn so badly?  
He was led towards an ambulance, and ushered inside. He stared with wide, panicked eyes out at the cars.  
The both of them were horribly mangled.  
Twisting metal and broken glass.  
The car that had hit them had hit Roman’s side.  
His door was smashed in.  
How they were going to get him out, Virgil didn’t even know.  
He jumped out of the ambulance, every inch of his skin tingling with… what?  
Adrenaline?  
Writing?  
Roman’s bruises and blood showing up on his skin?  
He didn’t know.  
He just knew that he had to do something.  
He ran to the car, dodging between the paramedic and police officer who tried to stop him.  
He jumped into the car, knowing the glass in the passenger seat was digging into his knees.  
He couldn’t feel it.  
Roman’s seatbelt got stuck, and Virgil gritted his teeth, tugging at it harder. When it finally released, he felt a tiny bit of relief flood into him.  
It didn’t last long.  
He grabbed ahold of Roman, wrapping his arms around his torso and trying to pull him out of his seat. Tears burned in his eyes and he gritted his teeth harder, pulling harder. There was a firefighter behind him, telling him to step out of the way, trying to move him.  
He didn’t listen.  
He swatted away her hands, pulling at Roman with all his strength. He managed, by some miracle, to get him out of the car, and three paramedics rushed to his side. Two put Roman on a stretcher and wheeled him over to the ambulance before lifting him up into it.  
Virgil headed for the same ambulance, and the paramedic at his side stopped him.  
“I have to go with him,” he rasped out, his voice cracking on its way out like shattering glass.  
“I’m sorry, hon. Only family can be in the ambulance with him.”  
“Fuck family. I’m his boyfriend.”


	26. Chapter 26

Patton was getting changed out of his uniform when they appeared. It started as a dark red smear on his left temple that slowly trickled down the side of his face.  
He felt the breath leave his body as he stared into the floor length mirror in the room he shared with Logan and Roman, shirt in hand. As he watched, a red handprint appeared on his chest, and from the way it was positioned, he knew that Roman’s hand had caused this on Virgil’s chest.  
That was the only logical conclusion.  
It wasn’t Logan.  
Logan was in the living room, and Roman wasn’t back yet.  
He couldn’t move.  
Couldn’t breathe.  
A bruise blossomed rapidly on his left shoulder, spreading down the entirety of his arm.  
There was more red on his face.  
And his arm.  
A deep purple and red bruise blossomed on his chest, a two-inch-wide strip from his right shoulder diagonally to his left hip.  
“Lo…” He gasped out, his voice trembling and ragged. “Logan!”  
His voice sounded absolutely wrecked. Breathless and ragged and desperate.  
His eyes teared up as he fell to his knees, his shirt falling from his grasp.  
He couldn’t hear anything.  
Couldn’t see anything aside from the mirror in front of him.  
The bruises on his skin.  
The red splotches and streaks.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
Logan was there.  
He heard their gasp of shock, and didn’t bother chastising them when they swore.  
Loudly.  
Strong, sure hands gripped Patton’s arms, lifting him to his feet and leading him across the room.  
The mattress shifted when he was sat down on it, and again when Logan sat beside him.  
“What happened?” they whispered, afraid of the words. “Are you okay, Pat?”  
He shook his head. “Not me.”  
Logan was on their feet in an instant, surging out of the room, tripping over their feet. Patton tore his eyes from the mirror as Logan returned, phone in their trembling hand. They handed Patton a marker, having been unable to find a pen in their hurry, and pointed his arm as they dialled Roman’s number.  
It rang.  
And rang.  
And rang.  
And rang.  
He didn’t pick up.  
Logan cursed again.  
And called again.  
And again.  
And again.  
Their body trembled violently and they kept their eyes on Patton, gripping his hand with an iron grip in an attempt to…. To what?  
Steady themself?  
Calm Patton?  
Both, maybe.  
Patton wrote in large, scribbled letters on his arm, coating the bruises and red splotches in words.  
“Virgil Roman please answer are you okay please be okay please Virgil Roman Virgil Roman Virgil Roman Virgil”  
He was crying now, sobbing violently, his body shaking with each gasping, ragged sob.  
“He’s not answering. Get a shirt on, Patton. We have to… to…” Logan stuttered desperately, getting to their feet. “We have to find them.”  
They knew they shouldn’t drive like this.  
Not when they were shaking and emotional and barely able to see through their tears.  
But they had no choice.  
They had to find them.  
The hospital was cold. Everything was cold. Why was Virgil so cold?  
He was wheeled into the hospital on a stretcher that he insisted he didn’t need, carefully pulled into the emergency room. Nurses surrounded him and though he tried to look over their shoulders to see where Roman was, he couldn’t. They pressed closer, checking his vitals, and a door closed somewhere. He shoved them aside, surging off the stretcher and onto his feet.  
He stumbled.  
Of course he stumbled.  
Every inch of his body was numb and tingling and cold.  
He found himself at a window, looking into a trauma room at Roman. Well, looking at the doctors surrounding Roman and getting a few glimpses at him. The world blurred and spun as he stared at him, his jaw slack in shock.  
His chest burned.  
It was his fault.  
His fault.  
His.  
Fault.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
Roman.  
No.  
Please.  
Please.  
Please.  
Roman.  
He was babbling, tears pouring down his cheeks in an endless stream. He snatched a pen from a cart and rolled up his sleeve, ignoring the burning pain that spread across his chest and neck when he moved. His head was throbbing, his eyes aching.  
His arm was covered in black ink. Patton’s handwriting. Incoherent scribbles that he was somehow able to decipher. They were worried.  
Of course they were worried.  
With shaking hands, Virgil scritched on his arm, “Help Roman in hospital car crash” before the pen fell from his fingers.  
His knees buckled as the world went black, sending him crashing to the floor.


	27. Chapter 27

Logan forced themself to calm down.  
Roman was in the hospital. He was safe now. He was going to be okay.   
They knew that Roman being in the hospital didn’t intrisically mean he was safe, or okay. But they held onto hope, gripping it tight as they could and refusing to let go.  
They took a deep breath.  
They drove Patton to the hospital, and when they passed the wreckage, they stopped. It was absolutely insane.   
A small, old car had crashed into the side of Roman’s smashing the driver side door in. There was huge chunks of broken glass everywhere, and they were sure they saw blood on the pavement beside Roman’s car. But that could’ve been a trick of their eye. It had to be.   
They were nauseous. Their stomach churned and twisted as they stared at the wreckage.   
“You have your license, correct?” they managed to gasp out. Patton nodded, though his eyes were glued to the disaster in front of them, his jaw slack in shock. “Can you drive? I can’t, I…” They shook their head. “I can’t.”  
“Yeah. C’mon.” His words were ragged, like they burned his throat, but he complied nonetheless. He and Logan got out of the car, switching seats, and once they were buckled up once more, they started driving.   
Patton forced himself not to look at the wreckage as they passed.   
Forced himself not to turn when Logan gasped, their eyes widening.  
Forced himself not to look.  
He gritted his teeth, fighting the tears in his eyes and tightening his grip on the steering wheel to stop the shaking.   
They made it to the hospital without incident, and the two of them rushed into the emergency room, tripping over their own feet in their hurry.   
The receptionist got to his feet when they approached, concern on his face at seeing the bruises on their faces.   
“We need to see Roman Montague and Virgil-- Fuck, what’s his last name?” Logan turned to Patton, who gave him a look at the curse.  
“Virgil Sinclair. They’re our boyfriends. Stop… stop looking at us like that. They’re not our bruises.”   
The receptionist stared at them for a moment longer before typing something on the computer in front of him. “Alright, I can take you to see Mr Montague, but it appears Mr Sinclair has put in a request to not have visitors aside from his grandmother. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and say neither of you are his grandmother.”  
“Wh-- What? No.” Patton’s brows pulled together. “Why would he-- Lo, why would he-- wh… why?”   
Logan rested their hand on Patton’s arm to stop him. “We can worry about it in a moment. If Virgil is well enough to request not to see us, I don’t think he’s in immediate danger. We need to see Roman, and we can worry about Virgil in a moment.”  
Patton paused, wanting very much to say more, but nodded.  
Roman was unconscious, but telling from the steady beeping of the heart monitor, he was stable. He looked so small in the bed, with the tubes coming out of him. The blood was gone from his face and arm and neck, but the bruises were still there. And they looked so much darker, so much more vibrant, surrounded by the white sheets.   
Logan was rooted to the floor, afraid that if they moved - even to take a step towards the bed - their knees would give out. They stared at Roman, in that too white bed…  
In the too-white room…  
And they paled.   
Nausea rose up in them once again and the world faded from existence.   
Patton let go of their hand and was across the room in an instant, falling to his knees at his bedside. He was babbling, tears streaming down his face as an endless torrent of words spewed from his mouth.   
“Roman, Ro, Ro, please, no… no, no, no, nononono, please please please please please Roman I’m sorry please.”  
It was too much.   
The brightness.   
The beeping.  
The white.   
The crying.  
The bruises.  
Logan turned on their heel, leaving the room and slamming the door behind themself. They pressed their back to the wall beside the door and slowly sank to the floor. They buried their face in their hands, tears burning hot in their eyes. Their body heaved with one great sob and it was only then that they allowed themself to fall apart.   
Virgil sat in his hospital bed, gripping the sleeves of his hoodie tightly. The pain meds had yet to set in, and he shut his eyes against the brightness of the room.   
A concussion, the doctors had said, and whiplash. He supposed he was lucky he wasn’t worse off.   
It was his fault.   
If he hadn’t reached for Roman’s hand, he wouldn’t have looked away from the road, and he would’ve been able to… to do something. He would’ve been able to steer out of the way of the car, or hit on the brakes in time, or… something.   
He couldn’t face them.   
How could he?  
How could he face them when they knew it was his fault that Roman - their Roman - was hurt?   
There was a knock at his door, and his eyes snapped open. A nurse poked his head into the room and gave Virgil a soft smile.   
“There’s someone here to see you.”  
“I said I don’t want visitors.”  
“Not even me, sweetheart?” his grandma asked sweetly as she entered the room.   
Virgil sat up even further in his bed, the only thing stopping him from getting up being the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him in even the small movement.   
“Gran.”  
She stepped more fully into the room and the nurse closed the door behind her, disappearing without another word.   
Gran approached Virgil’s bed, setting her purse down on one of the chairs beside it, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Virgil felt his worries being carried away in her hug.   
“Sweetie, what happened?” she asked as she pulled away from him, taking a seat. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine, gran. I… I was in the car with Roman - I’ve told you about him - and someone hit the car.”  
“Oh dear… Is he okay?”  
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t think so. I, uh. Last I saw him, he was unconscious in a trauma room. I don’t want to see them. I can’t.”  
She watched him in silence for a moment, as if she wanted to give him advice. The look on his face, however - pathetic and small - told her that it wasn’t the best time. He needed a bit to adjust or relax. He needed to heal.   
She sighed. “I’d like to bring you back home. Just for a month or so, so you can heal. Physically and emotionally. I won’t force you to come with me, but please think about it, Virgil.”  
He nodded without missing a beat, a small movement of his head. “I’ll come. I don’t know when they’re letting me out of here, though.”  
“The nurse told me that you’re good to go. He said they would like to schedule a checkup in a week, but we can do that back home. They’ve got your prescription waiting for you at the pharmacy whenever you’re ready to go.”  
“I don’t think I can walk without help, gran. I’m still really dizzy.”  
She nodded. “I’ll go get a nurse to bring your discharge papers and help you up.”  
She left him in the room, and as the door closed behind her, Virgil stared down at the sleeves of his hoodie. He pulled them up, risking a glance at his arms.   
And if there were words…  
If there was writing…  
He would have considered staying.  
He would have considered writing to them.  
He would have considered that they didn’t hate him.  
But there weren’t.  
There were no words.  
No writing.  
Not even the black marker was there anymore, having been washed off.   
With a ragged, teary sigh, Virgil pulled his sleeves back down, his mind made up.  
He was going home.


	28. Chapter 28

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Patton all but shrieked at the doctor in front of him as she checked on Roman. “He was just in a car a-- he was just hurt.”  
He couldn’t say the word.  
He didn’t think he would ever be able to say the word.  
He was barely managing to hold himself together after having taken a few minutes upon first getting there to cry, and he didn’t want to fall apart again.  
He didn’t want to feel again.  
Every inch of his body was numb.  
Logan’s eyes had been puffy when they’d come back into the room, and Patton knew that he had to pull himself together. For them, if for nothing else.  
“Well, I could be mistaken, but I am nearly certain that Mr Sinclair has already left the hospital. I am the one who signed his discharge papers, after all.”  
“But he’s hurt. How could you let him go?”  
Logan rested their hand on Patton’s arm. “I think what Patton is trying to say is that Virgil was in a car accident, and it seems strange that he was permitted to leave so soon.”  
She smiled kindly at them. “I can’t tell you anything about Mr Sinclair’s medical information. But he has indeed been discharged from the hospital.”  
Patton was about to say more, to argue more, when Logan brushed his curls back from his face, calming him a small amount. The doctor finished checking Roman’s vitals and turned to the two of them more fully.  
“Have either of you been in contact with Mr Montague’s family?” Seeing the panic on their faces, she continued, “Not for the reasons you’re thinking. Mr Montague is going to be fine, I just think it would be important for his family to be here.”  
“They, uh, they live in Florida.”  
“Besides,” Patton interjected. “We don’t have any way to contact them.”  
The doctor nodded her head in understanding before leaving the room. Logan chewed their lip in thought for a moment before taking their phone out of their pocket.  
“I have a way to get ahold of them.” They dialled Damien’s number and as they were waiting for it to ring, they explained to Patton. “My brother, Damien, is Roman’s brother’s soulmate. He can write to him and tell him to get out here, if he can.”  
He picked up eventually, whispering, “Logan, what do you need? I’m at school.”  
“I’m sorry, Dee, but it’s an emergency.”  
“It better be. I had to duck out of Mulaney’s class to answer your call. You know how he--”  
“Roman’s in the hospital,” they interrupted, knowing that Damien would continue rambling forever if they didn’t.  
“Shit. What happened?”  
“He and Virgil were in a... in a car accident. Virgil’s fine, apparently - he was discharged. But Roman’s…” They looked over to Roman, small and fragile in the bed, and took a shaky breath. “The doctor says he’s going to be fine, but he’s looking pretty bad right now. Roman’s phone is still back at the crash site, and Pat and I don’t have his brother’s number. Do you think you can get ahold of him?”  
“Yeah, of course.” There was a pause in which Logan assumed he was writing. “Where is he? Remus wants to know.”  
“Hopewell Hospital in Columbus, Ohio. I just… I know Roman would want his family here.”  
“I’ll tell Remus to bring their parents. And Lo? It’s gonna be okay.”  
They closed their eyes, taking a deep breath, and nodded. “Thank you, Damien.”  
And he was gone, the line clicking.  
Virgil stood in the parking lot, staring at the car. Well, “stood” is a bit of a stretch. He was more leaning against the outside of the hospital, gripping the edges of his hoodie with an iron grip as he fought against the spinning of the world around him.  
His gran pulled the car up to the front, and she got out, opening the passenger side door for Virgil.  
And he stared.  
He couldn’t move.  
Couldn’t breathe.  
He shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath.  
It was going to be okay. Gran was a safe driver. Gran didn’t get distracted at the wheel.  
Roman had been a safe driver.  
Virgil had distracted him.  
“Virgil, sweetheart,” gran cooed, stepping up to him and taking hold of his arm in her gentle grasp.  
He felt his worry ebbing away slowly, and eventually, he opened his eyes. He nodded, taking gran’s hand and letting her lead him to the car.  
“Everything’s going to be okay. We’re gonna take you home, and we’re going to set up an appointment for you to see Dr Picani, okay?”  
Patton couldn’t sleep.  
Big shocker there.  
He sat beside Roman’s bed, staring down at his arm. Logan had long since fallen asleep, curled up on the other chair, but there was no way Patton was going to be able to get a wink of sleep.  
Not with Roman still asleep.  
Not with Virgil gone.  
Not with every bit of writing gone from his arms.  
Logan had insisted on him washing it off. They claimed that if Virgil wanted them to stay away, if he wanted space, then they had to give it to him. But it wasn’t fair! Virgil could be hurt, he could be afraid and traumatized and nervous, and he was supposed to… what? Just ignore that? Ignore the sinking dread in his stomach when he looked at the bare skin?  
He looked up from his arm, glancing towards Roman, at the tubes and wires connected to him, at the steady beat of his heart on the monitor beside him. He glanced towards Logan, making sure they were still asleep. Once he was sure they were, he grabbed the pen off the vitals clipboard.  
With one last glimpse at Logan, he uncapped the pen and brought it to his arm. As he was about to write, there was a knock at the door, jolting Logan from their sleep.  
Patton panicked, throwing the pen across the room, and turned towards the door. Logan looked in the direction he had thrown the pen, their brows pulling together as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes.  
The door opened after a moment and a man who looked surprisingly like Roman walked in. He turned on the light, making Patton and Logan wince at the sudden brightness.  
He was nearly identical to Roman, with the same brown wavy hair, though his wasn’t shaved on the sides - rather, left longer, in a similar style to Patton’s - and his bangs were dyed an ashy blond color. The only other distinctions between the two were the mustache that sprouted on his upper lip and the red birthmark that took up much of the left side of his face - something Logan recognized from Damien’s face.  
He approached the bed, hurt surprise on his face, and Patton eventually cleared his throat.  
“You must be Roman’s brother.”  
He nodded, glancing towards them. “I’m Remus.” He held out his hand with a flourish and Logan took it after only a moment’s hesitation. He shook their hand and then Patton’s. “Mom and dad couldn’t make it. Um.” He turned his attention back to Roman. “What happened?”  
Patton looked absolutely broken, staring at Remus. His shoulders slumped, and he clenched his jaw, reminding himself that this man in front of them wasn’t Roman. He looked like him, and he sounded like him, but he wasn’t.  
“He was in a car accident,” Logan answered, knowing that Patton wouldn’t be able to. “We don’t know all the details, because the only other passenger - our fourth, Virgil - was discharged about an hour after getting here, and he won’t speak with us.”  
“Have you tried writing to him?”


	29. Chapter 29

“Would you mind telling me why you’re ignoring your soulmates again, Virgil?” Dr Picani asked, looking up from his notepad.   
Virgil shifted in the chair, looking around the office. Looking anywhere but at him.   
He couldn’t take the gentle look he knew was on his face. So close to pity, but warmer. More inviting.   
The office was different from the last time he had been there, a different location. It was cozier, somehow, the lights less harsh and the walls less white. But it still had the same cartoon posters and stuffed animals as he had had in the old office.   
“Love the new location.”  
“Why, thank you. They kicked me out of the old location because they got some complaints about me being disruptive.”  
Virgil’s brows pulled together, and he finally looked at him. “What do you… You’re not disruptive. You’re the calmest person I’ve ever met.”  
Dr Picani gave him a small smile, tilting his head to the side. “Do you remember our first appointment?”  
“Not much of it, no. I was in a…” he took a deep breath, not allowing himself to sink too deep into his emotions. He was past that. He knew better now. “I was in a really bad place. I don’t remember much about back then.”  
“When I first came in here, I was loud, and I was silly, and I noticed right away that you didn’t respond well to that. A lot of people are comforted by someone who is silly and they find it easier to open up to me when I’m not the serious therapist. But you were different. I had to shift gears a little bit, and I learned that you respond better to calm, serious, quiet Picani.”  
Virgil shifted uncomfortably, looking at him for only a moment longer before turning away. He was different. He hated that word. Hated the individuality that came with it.   
He was different.   
There was something wrong with him.   
He wasn’t normal.   
Wasn’t right.   
Wasn’t--  
No.   
He took a deep breath, and although it was shaky, it worked. He could feel his worry drifting away, and when he met Dr Picani’s eyes again, he flushed, remembering where he was.   
“Sorry, I…”  
“No, no, Virgil. That’s good. You’re calming yourself down now. You’re recognizing when there’s a problem, and you’re fixing it. I’m so proud of you.”  
Virgil felt heat rise to his cheeks at the praise, and he ducked his head to hide the smile that spread across his face.   
“Now, I hate to press, Virgil, but I’m going to ask you again. Why have you been ignoring your soulmates again?”  
The smile faded from his face, and he glanced up at Dr Picani, gripping the edges of his hoodie sleeves. “I’m worried they hate me.”  
“I doubt they hate you. The accident wasn’t your fault. It was just that: an accident. How long did it take for them to write to you after it happened?”  
“I’m not sure. When I woke up the next morning there was writing on my arm.”  
They hadn’t stopped writing to him since. A week had passed in which the writing had been nonstop. Both left and right arm were nearly constantly tingling. And after the first couple days, his leg started tingling as well. Roman was awake. And well enough to write, apparently.   
He probably hated him.  
“And what did it say?”  
He knew already. Virgil had told him before. He was sure of it. But he indulged him anyways, rolling his eyes a little.   
“It said ‘please talk to us.’ Patton wrote it, though. He’s so… forgiving. Even if he did hate me, I think he would be nice to me so he didn’t hurt my feelings.” He rolled his eyes a little before looking down at his sleeves.   
“Have Roman and Logan written to you yet?”  
“I think so. Unless Patton somehow has a bunch of extra hands.”  
“Do you think that they’re all just talking to you so they don’t hurt your feelings?”  
He shrugged, though he knew that most likely wasn’t the case. “Maybe?”  
“I can almost guarantee that’s not that they’re doing, Virgil. From the way you’ve spoken about them before, I can tell they love you. And correct me if I’m wrong, but you love them, too.”  
Virgil fell silent for a long time, chewing his lip and refusing to make eye contact. He didn’t bother correcting him. He was right. But he wasn’t going to tell him that. He couldn’t. Eventually, he let out a sigh, saying the only thing that he could find in his heart to say, “I can’t write to them, Dr Picani.”  
“Why not?”  
His words were gentle and careful, but Virgil felt ridiculously exposed. He felt small and sad and pathetic. He felt… weak.  
“I don’t know what to say.”  
“Sometimes, it’s just a matter of finding the… write words.” Dr Picani said with a smile, opening his notebook to a new page and setting it down in front of Virgil with the pen.   
Virgil chuckled at the pun, rolling his eyes, and picked up the notepad.   
Remus was staying with them. It was an adventure, to say the least. Even though Roman had been discharged from the hospital, he insisted on staying with them until he was better. Either that, or he simply didn’t want to go home yet.   
Probably both.  
He had been with them for two weeks, and whereas Roman was glad to have the extra help with things he couldn’t do while Patton was at work or Logan was at school, he was getting annoying.  
“Hey, Roman, can you help me get this thing off the top of the fridge?” he called.   
Roman groaned and made his way into the kitchen. Seeing Remus standing on his tip toes, trying to reach up to the small space on top of the fridge, he let out a sigh. “I literally can’t. You know that.” He motioned to his sling.   
Aside from the severely bruised ribs and the small cuts from the glass, the broken arm had been the worst of his injuries. He was lucky it hadn’t been worse. The doctors had told him that he had had a severe concussion, and they’d said his dislocated shoulder had come dangerously close to pinching his nerves, paralyzing his arm, but he felt fine now.   
“What are you even trying to get down from there?”  
“I threw my hackey sack up there, and I can’t reach it.”  
With his one good hand, Roman pushed a chair from the table towards the fridge. “There. Why are you playing with a hackey sack anyways? Those things stopped being popular years ago.”  
“So? I’m not allowed to have fun because most people don’t like the toy?”   
He got up onto the chair and got down the toy from the top of the fridge before jumping down off the chair with a loud thud.   
“Can you do me a favor, Re?”   
“Depends. Do I have to take my clothes off for it?”  
“Wh-- no!” He blinked in shock, shaking his head. “Why would I ask you to do something that… no!”  
“Then I guess I’ll consider it. What do you need me to do?”  
“Just go pick up Patton from work please. Logan’s classes don’t end for another couple hours.”  
“Yeah, I suppose. Are you coming with me this time?”  
He paused. Froze is a better word for it, though. He held his breath, didn’t blink, didn’t speak. For a long moment, he was still. Eventually, however, he let out his breath, and he shook his head. “No, I.. I think I’m okay here. Thank you, though.”  
He eyed him warily, but he didn’t debate it. Instead, he walked out of the apartment, grabbing the keys to Roman’s replacement car - purchased by their parents as an apology for not being able to come - on his way out.   
Roman let out a sigh, pacing the living room. He didn’t let his anxiety ebb away until he heard the sounds of the car retreating and fading away safely. Only then did he stop the pacing.   
He opened the door to the apartment and headed down the hall to the mailbox.   
Receipts for bills paid, receipts for hospital bills, receipts for the car.   
Why his parents bothered to have any of this sent to him, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he paid for any of it. Even if he were to get a job of his own, there was no way his father would let him pay for any of it.   
The only thing of import in the mailbox was a pink envelope with his address written on the front in Virgil’s handwriting.   
He knew he should wait for the others.   
Patton would be home soon, and Logan would be home in a few hours.   
It wouldn’t be fair to them if he were to open it now and read it without them.   
But still…  
But still he found himself pulling the sheet of notebook paper out of the envelope a moment later, seating himself on the couch.   
“Dear Roman, Logan, and Patton.   
It’s funny to start this that way. It’s too formal, I think. So, I’ll just start with “hi.” I have a lot that I need to say, and there’s not enough room to write it on my skin. My therapist suggested I write a letter to you, so here I am. Writing. Did you know I see a therapist? Probably not. I don’t think I ever mentioned it.   
There’s a lot about me that I never mentioned, and there’s a good reason for that. I thought that if I didn’t open up to you, I could protect you. But I guess that’s not the case, because I barely opened up at all, and look what happened. I got you hurt, Roman. And you two - Patton and Logan - I can only imagine how you must be feeling towards me.   
Dr. Picani insists that you guys don’t hate me, but I’m not so sure. I haven’t read anything that you’ve written on me. I guess it’s because I’m afraid to. I’m afraid that if I look, my suspicions will be confirmed. You’ll be yelling at me, angry with me, telling me that you never want to see me again.   
There’s a reason I left -- aside from the fear that you’re angry, of course. I need space and time to heal. Emotionally and mentally -- I’m fine, physically. My parents died in a car crash that I was in with them when I was seven years old. Being in cars after that was hard enough. And since I made Roman crash, I haven’t been in a good place. I’m not in a good place.   
I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll be fine. But it’s going to take me a few more weeks before I feel like I’m well enough to come back. And when I do, if you don’t hate me, I would really like to move into that spare bedroom of yours. If you don’t mind.   
Love, Virgil.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing is not linear

Patton was a wreck. He spent most of his time that he wasn’t at work lying in bed. He curled up in the blankets, curling his body into a ball to take up as little space as possible, and he stared at the wall. Stared at the painting that Roman had given him when they first met.   
The room smelled like him.   
The sheets and blankets carried memories of him, and Patton wrapped them around himself, breathing him in. The world passed in a blur, every minute somehow both passing in a second and stretching on for hours. Time had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning.   
He barely registered the sound of the knocking, and when he didn’t answer, the door opened.   
He barely registered the shift in the bed when someone sat down.   
He barely registered the soft touch of a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair away from his face.   
He looked up anyways.   
He turned around and looked up.   
Seeing Roman, smiling softly down at him, he felt his heart clench in his chest.   
It wasn’t real.  
He wasn’t real.  
He was hurt.  
He was gone.  
He was fake.  
He wasn’t real.  
His fingers brushed softly against Patton’s cheek, bringing him crashing back to reality hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.   
“I’m okay, Pat,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. “I’m okay.”  
His words rang in his ears, breaking the flood gates. Patton’s body heaved with one big sob before he was trembling, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Roman as loosely as he could restrain himself to be.   
He was real.  
He was safe.  
And he was real.  
They went through the same thing day after day after day. Patton was pale and shaky, tears flowing even in his sleep.   
What little he got anyways.   
Logan had tried comforting him a few times, but they had soon learned that Patton wouldn’t believe that Roman was okay unless it was Roman doing the comforting. Unless he saw him right in front of him.   
They felt helpless. They could do nothing but stand back and watch as Roman comforted Patton. They were, admittedly, more than a little jealous. Not only because they weren’t able to help Patton in any way, but because they had to stay strong.   
Roman had so much on his plate already. He’d had to drop his dance class for the rest of the semester, and drop out of the musical. And he had to overcome his wariness of cars - which had been more than difficult. And he had to comfort Patton every day.   
Logan knew they had to make things as easy for him as possible. They knew that they couldn’t add on another worry to his plate. They knew that they had to stay strong.   
No matter how many nights they woke up drenched in a cold sweat.  
No matter how many times they had been late to class because they couldn’t take the normal way to school.   
They couldn’t see the crash site.  
They knew it was ridiculous.   
They hadn’t even been involved in the crash, and yet they felt more pain from it then Roman seemed to.  
Over a month had passed and Virgil still hadn’t come back, nor had he even written to them. But Roman’s ribs were healed. It was only then that he was willing to go back to school. He had picked up online courses in place of the on-campus ones up to that point so he could avoid getting in the car.   
He even avoided his checkups, constantly rescheduling them and then rescheduling again when the day came.   
But by the time his ribs healed, he told himself he was ready.   
He forced himself to get into the car.   
Patton drove.  
Patton had been driving Roman’s car since Remus left a couple weeks ago.   
Roman bounced his leg in the car, his entire body tensed. He gripped his phone in one hand - ready to call 911 if he needed to - and the other gripping onto his seat belt. His eyes flickered from Patton’s window to his to the front. Only when he got to the school safely did he relax. He felt the weight of the panic leave him suddenly, and his entire body drooped as he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.   
With Roman out of the house, Logan allowed themself to break down.   
Again.  
They didn’t have to worry about Roman feeling the need to comfort them.   
They didn’t have to worry about stealing attention away from Patton.   
They didn’t have to worry about being judged for breaking down.  
They were allowed to feel.  
Their body trembled and shook with tears that poured down their face in an endless stream. Their breath came in hiccuping gasps and they curled in on themself, burying their face in their hands.   
The door opened and within an instant, they heard the padding of feet rushing towards them, and someone crouched beside them.   
Patton wrapped his arms around them, sinking to sit on the floor with them. “Hey, hey, Lo Lo, it’s okay. What’s wrong? What happened?”   
They couldn’t speak, but they were able to relax somewhat in his arms.   
“It’s okay. We’re okay. He’s okay,” he whispered, his own voice cracking as tears pricked in his eyes. He held Logan in his arms, rocking slightly with them and reaching up to card through their hair, combing it back from their face. He repeated the words until Logan stopped crying, and only then did the two of them notice that their arms were tingling.   
Patton rolled up the sleeve of his cardigan and looked down at his skin only to see, in pink ink, in Virgil’s handwriting, “I’m coming home.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter is early. I finished it early and have the patience of a toddler. So... here.

In the time Virgil had been back at gran’s house, his arms had barely stopped tingling. They even tingled with new writing in the middle of the night when they were supposed to be asleep.   
He refused to read any of it until he was ready. And every time he claimed he was ready, the tingling would start anew and another wave of anxiety would overcome him.  
He saw Dr Picani every week. The more Virgil saw him, the more he opened up. He talked about his parents, he talked about the loss and the depression, and when he got more comfortable, he talked about his soulmates.   
He rambled for most of one of his sessions about how Roman was constantly singing some show tune or practicing for a musical - a musical he would undoubtedly have to drop out of now. About how Patton’s eyes lit up every time he talked about one of the pets at work and was constantly hoping one of the cats they intook was hypoallergenic so he could adopt it without feeling like he was dying. About how Logan spent their nights curled up in that big, soft armchair, a book in their lap, and the way their eyes lit up whenever astronomy was mentioned or someone agreed to debate with them. And how they always won said debates.  
“It sounds as though you’re incredibly fond of them, Virgil,” Dr Picani said softly at the end of one session.   
He nodded, toying with the hem of one of his sleeves. “I love them, Dr Picani.”  
A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he tilted his head. “I know. I’m glad you know now, too. Enough to say it out loud, anyways. Have you considered reading what they’ve written to you yet?”  
Virgil paused. He had considered it countless times, but every time he went to read it, he got nervous and backed out. Seeing the hesitation on Virgil’s face, Dr Picani smiled again.   
“That’s what I want you to do this week. I want you to try to read it.”  
“Homework from my therapist?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes a little.   
“You can call it that if you like. I’ll see you next week, Virgil. You did good today. I’m proud of you.”  
Virgil sat in his bedroom, his laptop open on the mattress in front of him with his nearly-finished manuscript pulled up. He looked away from the screen and glanced down at his arm, at the sleeve of his hoodie.   
What was the worst that could happen?  
They tell him that they never want to see him again?  
They wouldn’t have written so much or so often if they never wanted to see him again.   
He pulled up his sleeve.   
And then his other sleeve.   
Logan’s writing, precise and neat, covered his left arm, and Patton’s covered his right. And he knew that if he were to take off his pants, Roman’s writing would cover his leg.   
“Of course you’re welcome here, Virgil.” “Take all the time you need.” Logan.  
“Can’t wait until you come home!” “Miss you!” “Loved the letter!” Patton.  
He eventually pulled down his pants just enough to read the writing on his thigh. Roman’s curling, looping script covered the entirety of his thigh.  
“We don’t blame you for what happened. I’m not mad at you. None of us are mad at you, and none of us hate you. Please come home.”  
Virgil’s hair was awful. Before he could even consider being seen by them, he had to do something about the faded silvery white that the purple had faded to be. But he didn’t have the money to go get it professionally done, so he settled on buying a box from the store.   
Purple seemed too… dark.  
He wasn’t there anymore.   
He wasn’t at that point in his life, hiding away from everyone and everything. He was more open to the idea of opening up. What was a friendlier color?  
He decided on pink.   
A lovely pastel pink that Dr Picani absolutely loved. He fawned over it during their next session, his voice shrill and his grin wide as he obviously held back from squealing in happiness. Virgil laughed a little at his reaction, surprised that he wasn’t uncomfortable or nervous with him anymore.   
“I read what they wrote, Dr Picani.”  
“And what did they have to say?”  
“That they can’t wait for me to come home and that they’re not mad at me.”  
“Do you think you’re ready?”   
He hesitated, chewing his lip in thought. “I think I am.” And he was. For the first time in over a month, he was being honest with himself about them.   
“Would you like to tell them that?” Dr Picani held out his pink gel pen, and Virgil took it after only a moment’s pause.   
He rolled up his sleeve, aware of Dr Picani’s curiosity at the writings all over his arm, and he wrote, “I’m coming home.”  
The three of them agreed to come pick him up when they all had a day off from work and school. Gran had said she would gladly give him a ride, but Virgil insisted that she didn’t have to.   
Patton drove, with Logan in the back seat and Roman in the front. When they pulled up to gran’s house, she stepped out of the house. Patton parked the car and glanced a little nervously at Roman and Logan before stepping out. They followed him and the three of them together walked up to gran.   
“Are you Virgil’s grandma?” Logan asked.   
“I am.” She smiled softly, extending a hand, which they gladly took, shaking it firmly.   
“It’s nice to meet, you, I’m--”  
“Wait. Let me guess.” She released their hand. “Logan? And… Patton. And Roman.” She looked to each of them in turn, and when she saw the surprise on their faces, she chuckled softly. “Virgil talks about you three an awful lot. I’m sorry for taking him away from you, I just… well, he needed time to heal. I hope you understand.”  
“We do,” Roman said with a nod.   
“Well, come in, come in. Virgil’s just finishing packing up his things.” She led them into the house and pointed down a hallway. “His bedroom is right down there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you kids need anything.”  
Virgil froze when they entered. His eyes lingered on Roman, on the sling his arm was in, and eventually, he looked up at his face. At the warmth in his smile. At the way his eyes lit up at seeing Virgil. And he looked to Logan, at the small, hesitant, nervous smile that twitched at the corners of their lips. And at Patton, at the way he was bouncing on his feet, very obviously restraining himself from running to Virgil.   
“You dyed your hair,” Logan noted softly.   
Virgil nodded, tucking his bangs behind his ear. The four of them stood in awkward silence for a moment, millions of questions and words left unsaid, before Virgil cleared his throat, looking away from them. “I don’t have very much, but if you guys want to start grabbing--”   
Patton cut him off, running up to him and hugging him tightly. Virgil froze again, gasping softly as his eyes widened.   
It had been so long since he had felt the touch of another person.  
Gran gave her love in forms of smiles and gifts. Not hugs.  
Tears pricked in Virgil’s eyes as he basked in Patton’s warmth, and within an instant, Roman and Logan were on either side of him, wrapping their arms around him as well.   
He broke.  
His breath came in shuddering gasps as the tears spilled over, a grin spreading across his face.   
They were perfect.   
Everything about them was perfect.  
He loved them, and they weren’t mad at him. They didn’t hate him. They loved him.   
It was…  
Perfect.  
Logan pressed a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head, whispering, “Let’s take you home.”


	32. Chapter 32

“Virgil, love, are you almost ready?” Logan called as they leaned close to the bathroom mirror, applying their eyeliner. “We have to head out soon.”  
“He’s in the bedroom,” Patton said softly, coming up behind Logan and wrapping his arms around their waist. “Do you need any help, Lo Lo?”  
They straightened, leaning back somewhat in Patton’s arms, and looked in the mirror at the both of them. Logan had grown out their hair in the past year, and whereas they kept the sides shaved short, the top was long enough now to be pulled back in a bun - as it often was.  
They shook their head no before turning and pressing a kiss to the top of Patton’s head. “Do you know if Virgil’s almost ready? If we want to get there in time, we have to head out soon.”  
“Eyeliner, really, starlight?” Virgil joked from the doorway, a small smile on his face.  
Patton released Logan as the two of them turned around to face Virgil. He was absolutely stunning. As always. He’d stuck with the pink hair, redying it every couple months, and had adjusted his wardrobe a bit - at Roman’s insistence - to match. His purple hoodie was gone, stuffed in the back of the closet, and had been replaced with a dark pink one. He still stuck with the black aesthetic aside from the hoodie, however. Under their gaze, he shifted slightly, embarrassed, and brushed his pink bangs away from his face, revealing more of the black-lined eyes.  
“I can take it off if you’d like, love,” they offered, already reaching for the pack of makeup wipes on the sink.  
“No, no. It looks good on you. Besides, I don’t really mind it all too much. Plays into my whole aesthetic without me having to worry about accidentally smudging it. Are we ready to go now?”  
Roman danced around the stage, never missing a note or a step or a cue for his lines. The dance classes he’d picked up again after he was healed last year had really paid off in this role. Virgil, Logan, and Patton sat in the audience with Remus and Damien, who had moved to Columbus together in the last year. Towards the end of the show, as Roman was belting out his final note, the tears in his eyes shining in the spotlight, Virgil turned and whispered something to Damien, who nodded.  
He and Remus got up out of their seats and headed out of the theater. Virgil then turned to Logan, whose brows pulled together in confusion.  
“I’m not feeling well. Damien is driving me home. Tell Roman I said I’m sorry, and that he did really well.”  
Logan nodded deftly, though they watched Virgil as he stood up and exited the theater after Damien and Remus. They wondered idly if they should follow after him, to make sure he was alright, but they decided against it.  
Virgil got into the back seat of Damien’s car, and he turned around to look at him, eyebrows raised on his forehead in a silent question. Virgil nodded, and Damien pulled out of the parking lot.  
“Do you need any help, Virgil?” Remus asked when they were halfway back to the apartment.  
“No, I think I’ll be alright. Thank you.”  
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  
“How much time do you think you have to get it done?” Damien asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at him when he stopped at a red light.  
“No more than fifteen minutes is my best guess.”  
“Think you’ll be able to get it done alone?”  
He paused before nodding. “I think so.”  
When Damien dropped him off at the apartment, he smiled in thanks to the two of them before heading inside. He had to get this done fast.  
“Where’d Virgil go?” Roman asked when he emerged from backstage, approaching Logan and Patton. “And Damien and Remus?”  
“Virgil wasn’t feeling well,” Logan explained, stepping forward and wrapping their arms around Roman’s waist and pressing a kiss to his forehead. They let him go after a second, though they still held his hand. “Damien and Remus took him back home. He told me to tell you he’s sorry and you did really well.”  
“You really did!” Patton chimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
Roman grinned, giving a rather dramatic bow before kissing Patton’s lips sweetly. “Let’s head home.”  
“You don’t want to go to the afterparty?” Patton asked, tilting his head to the side.  
He shook his head. “I want to see our stormcloud.”  
Roman opened the door to the apartment and gasped softly, stepping inside to let Logan and Patton see the sight before them.  
Virgil was seated on a stool from the kitchen table in the middle of the living room, and though the lights were off, the room was lit entirely by candles.  
Candles on every surface.  
The shadows of the flames flickering on the walls.  
Fairy lights twinkling on the wall behind him.  
He had Roman’s guitar resting on his leg, and when he saw them, he started playing.  
He didn’t meet their eyes for the entirety of the intro, but when he opened his mouth to sing, he met each of their eyes in turn.  
“There’s so many things that I could say, but I’m sure it would come out all wrong.”  
His voice was silken honey, his words slipping over his tongue with smooth expertise that told them he had practiced this over and over.  
“You got something that I can’t explain, still I try and try and let you know.”  
Patton squeaked in surprise, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red that Virgil smiled against when it appeared on his cheeks as well.  
“That first summer we spent, one could never forget.”  
Logan fanned their face to fight against the tears that pricked in their eyes.  
“Looking for any kind of reason to escape all the mess that we thought is what made us.”  
Roman pressed his lips tightly together, fighting the urge to grin and squeal happily.  
“Ain’t it funny now, we can see we’re who we’re meant to be. You still have all of my…”  
Patton bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands flapping a little.  
“You still have all of my…”  
Logan let their tears fall, streaking down their cheeks, and grinned widely enough to hurt their cheeks.  
“You still have all of my heart.”  
Roman grinned, biting his bottom lip to muffle his squeal of happiness.  
When the song ended, Virgil set the guitar on the couch and got up off the stool. He sank down to the floor, down on one knee, and took a deep breath.  
Patton gasped sharply, his eyes tearing up.  
Logan covered their mouth, sobbing silently.  
Roman bounced on the balls of his feet, grabbing onto Patton’s arm to hold himself back from rushing to Virgil.  
“You three are my everything. I love you all so much. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t in my life,” Virgil started, his words hesitant. “I want you to be in my life for the rest of forever. We can’t do it legally, but I don’t care. I just want you. All of you. Forever. Will you marry me?”  
“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Virgil sings is "All My Heart" by Sleeping With Sirens (acoustic version) please please please give it a listen. I didn't include the entire song but he does sing all of it before proposing.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that 32 was the last chapter but the people on tumblr have spoken so you get a cute wedding chapter.

“What if they’re not out there?” Logan asked, their nerves shaking their voice. They adjusted their tie for the fifth time, staring into the floor-length mirror. “What if they decided this is stupid and they went home? What if--”  
“Hey.” Damien got to his feet, peeling himself away from the couch he had seated himself on while waiting for Logan to get ready. He stepped towards them and took their tie from their hands, tightening it before straightening the collar of their shirt. “Do you really think they’d leave?”  
Logan shrugged slightly, their eyes darting towards the door, as if they could see through the walls to know if they were out there.  
“Right, because they just up and decided on the biggest day of your lives that they don’t love you anymore.” He let sarcasm drip heavily from his tongue, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk. Logan rolled their eyes. “They’ll be out there. You know Remus - do you really think he would let them leave?”  
Roman paced his dressing room, chewing on his thumbnail. Every few seconds, he looked up from the floor, towards the door. After what seemed like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes, there was a knock at the door, and Roman lunged for it. He opened the door to see Remus standing there, a black clothing bag in hand held above his head to keep it from dragging on the floor.  
He grinned that cheshire cat grin of his and pushed his way into the room, hanging the bag on the hook on the door.  
“What are you doing in here, Remus?” Roman hissed, closing the door behind him before anyone else got a view of him in nothing but his spanx. “Where’s mom?”  
His smile faded and he turned to Roman. “Her and dad called about five minutes ago. They can’t make it.”  
“What do you mean they can’t…” His cheeks flushed pink in his anger. “They waited until right now to call and say that? They couldn’t have said that earlier when they were supposed to fly in?”  
“Roman, it’s going to be okay.”  
“No, it’s not. We have to cancel. We have to…. To…. I can’t go out there. I’m leaving.” He grabbed his clothes and started shoving his legs into his jeans.  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll there, princess.” Remus snatched the clothes from him, yanking the pants away from him quick enough to knock him on his butt. “You’re going out there, and you’re getting married.”  
“I have spent months planning this wedding, Remus, and if mom and dad aren’t here, what’s the point? It’s all ruined!” He reached for his clothes, and Remus jumped back, holding them behind him, far out of Roman’s reach.  
“You have spent months planning this wedding, princess, and I’m not going to let you ruin it because our shitstains that call themselves parents couldn’t be bothered to show up. They think just because they paid for this whole thing that they don’t have to make an appearance. You get dressed, and I will find you some parents.”  
Before Roman had time to recover from his confused shock, Remus was gone, bringing Roman’s clothes with him so Roman wouldn’t be able to leave.  
Virgil walked out first, his arm looped through gran’s. The music drifted softly through the conservatory as he walked up to the center of the room. When he reached the center, gran let him go, tears in her eyes, and went to stand to the side.  
Logan was next, their eyes teary and their arm looped through Damien’s. When Virgil laid eyes on them, he smiled, his hands trembling in the sudden nervousness that wracked through him. Damien stood with Remus.  
Patton came out with one arm looped through his mom’s and one through his dad’s. He paused when he saw Logan and Virgil, a grin spreading across his face, and bounced on his feet. Well, as much as his heeled boots would allow him to, anyhow. He all but ran down the aisle, held back by his parents. They stood with gran.  
Roman was last.  
He stepped out of his dressing room, each arm looped through those of two strangers. He glanced towards Remus, confusion apparent on his face even through the grin. Remus shrugged, nodding. He had pulled two strangers off the street to play Roman’s parents.  
Virgil was going to faint.  
He was literally going to faint.  
They were all so beautiful.  
Logan in their black tux, the blue tie drawing attention to their eyes.  
Patton in his tan tux, the heels of his boots lifting him up another couple inches so he was taller than Virgil.  
And Roman in his gown, the white skirt poufed out incredibly and the sleeves hanging off his shoulders. The only thing more spectacular than the gown was perhaps the golden, bejeweled tiara atop his head.  
“Do you, Logan, take these men to have and to hold for as long as you both shall live?” Dr Picani asked, a grin on his face.  
Logan nodded, tears streaming down their face. “I do.”  
“Do you, Patton, take these people to have and to hold for as long as you both shall live?”  
Patton bounced on his feet, chewing his bottom lip, and nodded. “I do.”  
“Do you, Roman--”  
“I do,” he interrupted, grinning as his eyes teared up.  
“Do you, Virgil--”  
“I…” Virgil interrupted, pausing. “I have my own vows, if that’s okay.”  
“Oh, of course.”  
Roman’s brows pulled together in confusion and he looked from Logan to Patton. They were just as confused as he was. Virgil smiled kindly.  
“I love you so much. You three walked into my life… well, “walked” is a bit of an understatement. You stormed into my life, flipping everything upside down like the hurricane that you three are. But it’s a storm that I would gladly weather every day for the rest of my life. You three are… you’re the things of fairytales. The feeling that I have when I’m with you is the thing of fairytales. I cannot wait to feel that every day for the rest of forever. So yes, Dr Picani, I will gladly take these three to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for the rest of our lives. I do.”


End file.
